


Blind Faith (Sequel to Something to Believe In)

by FireflySummerwynd



Category: Poison (US Band)
Genre: F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:34:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 35,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24795505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireflySummerwynd/pseuds/FireflySummerwynd
Summary: Two months after the firing of lead guitarist CC DeVille, Poison's pretty much at a stand-still as they search for a replacement. Auditions keep coming in left and right, but nobody seemsta fit the bill–till one cold Day in November.Richie wasn't quite sure what the hell he was walking into exactly, but he certainly wasn't expecting quite the amount of turmoil he found. He definitely wasn't expecting a threat that'd scare just about any guy senselessta come outta one of the band members' mouths almost as soon as the guy sat down next to him. Another thing he wasn't expecting–to meet said guy's gorgeous wife, whom he's almost immediately attracted to in more ways than one.Bobby's pretty much been begging to be given something to believe in again, and he's starting to think that's not gonna happen. Then again, maybe having this kid join their ranks'll be just what they need, rather than being their worst mistake yet. All he can do is hope and pray, not to mention forge ahead with more than a lil blind Faith.
Relationships: Bobby Dall/Lyric Dall, Lyric Dall/Richie Kotzen





	1. One

_November, 1991_

_Los Angeles, California_

“Bobby, hurry up in there–today’s audition’s here!”

Twenty-seven-Year-old Bobby Dall groaned and simply kicked the door of the bathroom he was currently holed up in with the heel of his cowboy boot. He couldn’t help that he felt like utter shit still, even though what was making him so sick was finally starting to slack off. It wasn’t like he’d _meant_ to impregnate his wife during their honeymoon earlier that Summer, after all–he blamed that on being a virile guy who used a faulty rubber…again.

Bret still pounded on the door, and he soon heard the second blonde of their band–thirty-Year-old drummer, Rikki Rockett–come up behind him. A few sharp words and a quick _Sorry, man_ – _take your Time!_ preceded him dragging his shorter counterpart off so he could collect himself. He knew the poor guy felt like hell due to the Sympathy sickness he’d been suffering the past few months, but the shorter blonde just wouldn’t listen.

It wasn’t long before the young bassist finally managed to get his stomach settled enough to rise from where he’d parked himself on the floor in front of the toilet. Grumbling under his breath as he flushed and moved to rinse his mouth out, he swore he was gonna kill his vocalist, if he brought Chinese around him again while they were in the studio. Even _after_ this living nightmare was over and both he and his wife, Lyric, were feeling better, he didn’t think he’d be able to stand the stench. No doubt just that was bound to dredge up memories of the here-and-now once they were just that and make him at least gag, if not start retching.

“Feeling better now, dude?” Rikki asked once he finally rejoined them, his face still a bit pale.

“For now,” he answered with a grumble. “Bret, the next Time I tell ya not to bring Chinese around me, don’t fuckin’ bring it around me, damn it!”

“Not my fault–” the vocalist started.

“Say it, and I’ll rip your tongue out with my bare hands,” Bobby growled as he settled on the couch next to the guy that was apparently auditioning for them today.

Said young man’s deep blue eyes were the size of dinner plates as he stared at him.

“Sorry, kid–not trying to scare ya,” the young bassist chuckled, holding out his hand. “Bobby Dall, bassist of this rag-tag group.”

“Richie Kotzen,” he supplied as he accepted the handshake. “Dare I ask what’d cause ya to make such a threat?”

“Tied the knot earlier this Summer, and I guess ya could say the missus and I got a lil carried away on our honeymoon,” Bobby laughed. “Problem is, I’ve been feeling _her_ sickness and mood swings alongside her, hint hint.”

“Yikes, that’s _gotta_ suck,” the young man chuckled.

“Eh, sometimes–like when Bret gets the genius idea to order Chinese, even when I tell him not to ’cuz the scent makes my stomach turn mutinous.” He shot another dirty look at the shorter of the blondes. “I’m just sick of him making comments about my sex Life more than anything, which’s why I threatened to rip his tongue out.”

“Well, it’s not like the first one’s even a Year old yet,” Bret retorted.

“You’re cruisin’ for a bruisin’, Michaels,” the young bassist warned him. “’Cuz I fuckin’ mean it when I say I’m sick of your shit.”

“All right, enough!” Rikki finally exploded, shooting up outta his chair. “Bret, put a fuckin’ dick–none of ours, mindja–in it so we can let Richie actually audition.”

Said young man now wasn’t too sure about auditioning for this band, compared to when he’d first walked in, guitar case and amp in hand. It wasn’t ’cuz he wasn’t confident in his abilities–he’d three solo albums out already, and he was only pushing twenty-two, after all. No, it was ’cuz these guys seemed to be in far more turmoil as a band than what his own manager’d made them out to be when he’d insisted he audition for them. To him, it seemed like the rhythm section were in agreement with each other on what needed to be done, but their vocalist was against them–and too damn stubborn to know when to shut the fuck up.

Even though he was now unsure, Richie still nodded when that taller blonde–Rikki, as he’d introduced himself–nodded to him. Apparently, that was his way of letting him know he’d the floor, as it were, so he could actually play whatever came to mind. Or maybe he should be saying whatever came to his fingertips, considering he never really thought when he played unless he was trying to write lyrics.

Bobby couldn’t help a soft, but distressed burp as he settled back in his seat, one ankle braced on the opposite knee. He shot his drummer a thankful smile when he tossed him a bottle of Ginger ale, knowing he was gonna need it since–while faint now–the scent of that Chinese food still lingered. Even if Bret wasn’t looking out for him–the guy never seemed to look out for anyone but himself anymore–at least _somebody_ besides his wife was.

Moments later, the younger, slightly shorter brunette started letting his fingers dance up and down his fret board, his other hand going just as nuts with his pick. There were too many different styles all mixed together for them to tell exactly what style he was using at any given Time, but he was damned good. In fact, it sounded like he was soloing all over himself without playing any given song–and better than their former guitarist’d ever done. That wasn’t to say that CC DeVille wasn’t a good guitarist by any means–he just tended to have a far sloppier style to his playing. Course, that was one of the things that made him their lovable resident Cracker Jack till Bret’d fired him two months ago after a backstage fight at the _VMAs._

 _“Uhhhh…”_ Richie wasn’t quite sure how to take the trio of _Deer-in-the-headlights_ looks he was getting when he muted his strings and looked up a few minutes later.

“Okay, I’ll bite,” the young bassist finally said. “There’s only one other person I’ve heard come closeta playing like that on just about any instrument.”

“And who’s that, if ya don’t mind my asking?” He couldn’t help cocking a brow at him.

“My wife,” Bobby chuckled. “That woman can do things with her voice, piano keys, and just about any kinda string I’ll damn well never have any Hope of doing.”

“Really, now?” the young man chuckled. “I don’t mean that in a bad way, mindja–it’s just not every Day that I even hear stories about another virtuoso who comes anywhere near my level of playing.”

Now it was his turn to cock a brow at the younger brunette.

“I don’t just play guitar,” Richie laughed. “Besides that, I play mandolin, bass, piano, dobro–which I consider a totally different type of guitar–and drums. And that’s just keeping the list short, really.”

“Okay, Lyric’s not quite _that_ good,” the young bassist admitted. “Then again, her voice’s her top instrument, so she more than makes up for it in her own ways.”

“Eh, never really liked the Sound of my own voice,” he said, shrugging. “That’s why it took me till my third album to do more than instrumentals.”

Three sets of brows rose in surprise, which made pink tinge his cheeks slightly.

“People describe it as bluesy and Soulful, but that’s not the only thing I like,” the young man said. “I can play so many different styles of Music that it makes no senseta tie myself down to just one ’cuz of my voice.”

“Hey, nothing wrong with your voice sounding a certain way, kid,” Bobby told him, gently patting his knee. “I didn’t really like the Sound of my own–till a certain Siren got me to singing at home more in the last Year.”

Richie cocked his brow at him, but nobody got a chanceta explain what he meant before the poor guy’s eyes widened at the same Time he stiffened a bit from head to toe.

 _“It’s a game of…Love and hate_ – _to lose it all’s a chance we take.”_

The young man couldn’t help turning to glance over his shoulder at the Sound of an obvious female voice, a bit disturbed when he didn’t see anyone. Judging by the older brunette’s reaction, though, he recognized that voice all too well, and it appeared to surprise him a bit. Well, maybe _surprise_ was the wrong word for it, considering how his nostrils flared and his pupils dilated so one couldn’t see the brown of his irises anymore.

 _“Come close and hold me, baby…”_ preceded an obvious feminine laugh, which was quickly joined by an infantile giggle.

“Da-da!” Seconds later, a lil body crawled around the couch at top speed and headed straight for Bobby, a grin on its lil face.

“Chu booger!” he laughed, leaning forward to pick up his eleven-month-old son. “Chu and Mama never fail to keep Daddy on mah toes!”

“Ah, ya know ya love it, hon.”

“Hey there, Lyric,” Rikki chuckled as the owner of that feminine voice finally appeared.

Richie’s eyes widened at the woman’s slightly exotic-looking Beauty, even as she leaned down in front of the older brunette to give him a searing kiss.

“Ugh, judging by the scent, I smell that we’ve been torturing my husband again,” she chuckled, perching on the couch arm next to him.

“Blame Bret for that one, sweetheart,” said husband grumbled, even as he bounced his son on his knee. “He just can’t seem to grasp the concept that Chinese makes us both sick right now.”

“So, who’s the proverbial new kid on the block?” Lyric asked, turning her attention to the man settled next to her husband.

Somehow finding his voice again, despite being Awe-struck at her Beauty–not to mention the laser intensity of her equally brown gaze–the young man managed to hold out his hand and introduce himself. He couldn’t help a gasp at the almost static charge that he felt shock his palm once her hand touched his, which seemed to surprise the brunette beside him. Why it surprised him, he wasn’t too sure, but it almost felt like he was quite literally touching the Soul of a kindred Spirit till she let go of his hand.

Bobby shared a look with his wife, who just smirked at him before turning her attention back to the younger brunette. The only other person she’d ever felt a quite literal spark from just by shaking their hand or some other benign touch was himself, and they both knew that. It seemed they were gonna have some lively conversation over dinner that Night, but now wasn’t the Time or place for it.

Even the blonde half of the band noticed something strange was going on between the trio of brunettes, but neither remarked on it. Rikki kept his mouth shut outta Respect, figuring that if they wanted them to know, they’d tell them in their own good Time. Bret was just too damn scared of their bassist after his earlier threat to open his mouth again for the moment, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. At least that allowed someone elseta get a word in edgewise without a hormonal woman dishing out kidney-shotsta get him to shut up. It wasn’t just _his_ opinion on this kid’s playing that was needed, after all–his rhythm section’s opinions were needed, too, and he really did need to learn how to shut up sometimes.

All four guys agreed to come back to the studio and jam together before they decided on anything definitive, but it was looking likely that Richie was gonna be their new lead guitarist. None of them wanted to make any premature assumptions, but there was only one other guy they even remotely considered worthy of the gig, as it were. It was kinda like at the Beginning of the band’s stint in California, when they’d come down to the top contenders of CC and Slash the first Time they’d to replace their guitarist. Two incredibly-talented guitarists with their own personal styles, but only one that’d get the Honor of being able to play with the likes of Poison.


	2. Two

“So, what on Earth did I witness between you and Richie earlier?”

Bobby cocked a brow at his wife as he turned from getting the lasagna they’d both wanted for dinner in the oven so he could actually see her. He’d a pretty good idea of what the answer to that question was already, but like certain other things in Life, he actually wanted to hear it. From what he’d noticed ever since they met, she’d never given another man a second glance, as far as being attracted to a guy went. That was one of the many reasons he’d fallen in Love with her, even before he’d begged her for that first date in the middle of his last tour.

“I think ya already know, love, but I’ll say it, if you’re that determined to hear it,” Lyric laughed from where she sat on a bar stool on the other side of the island.

He couldn’t help a smirk as he leaned back against the counter behind him, his arms crossed over his chest.

“I ain’t gonna deny he’s attractive,” the young woman told him. “If I hadn’t met you first, I’d totally go after him like a blood hound.”

“Or maybe a Bird Dog,” Bobby laughed.

“Yeah, that, too,” she agreed with a chuckle of her own. “’Cuz no, being pregnant and horny ain’t the only reason I find him attractive.”

“So, ya actually felt a spark when ya shook his hand?” the young bassist asked, pushing away from the counter he was leaning against.

 _“Mmm hmm_ –and the only other one I’ve experienced that with is you,” Lyric answered, nodding.

He didn’t even have to ask what that meant, ’cuz he already knew–that the younger brunette was a kindred Spirit to her that she was _gonna_ connect with on one level or another. Part of him couldn’t help feeling a bit threatened as a man and husband, considering she’d already admitted to being attracted to Richie. But there was another part that held Faith in her regardless, ’cuz she was about as brutally honest a woman as he’d ever come across in his Life.

The young woman shot him one of her gorgeous smiles that few ever saw, depending on her mood, as she reached up to gently cup his cheek. Gently pulling him down closer to her, she gave him one of the most tender kisses they’d ever shared, if one didn’t count the ones they shared after making Love. Only when he pulled back to look at her as if searching her eyes for answers did she bother saying anything else.

Bobby couldn’t help the relief he felt when she assured him that she well knew the difference between cheating and something she called polyamory. There was a big difference between truly going behind his back and having a secondary partner that he knew about and consented to her having. If she were to ever do anything with the younger brunette, he’d know what she was up to long before she ever did it. She made it clear that she suspected she’d been cheated on in the Past, and she couldn’t bring herself to do that to him–especially not after handfasting with him not even six months ago. Whether one of his band mates or anyone else, if he didn’t consent to her having a second partner, it’d never happen.

Lyric easily saw–not to mention felt–how much he relaxed upon hearing that reassurance, even though she knew she’d still have to prove her words. Both were big believers in the old adage that actions spoke louder than words, so she could say she’d never cheat on him all she wanted to–but she’d to be ready to put her money where her mouth was when she did. She just hoped that if her attraction to Richie grew enough for him to consent to her taking him as a secondary partner, it didn’t overly affect the band. And by that, she meant that she hoped it didn’t rip the band to shreds worse than CC’s outta-Control cocaine addiction already had.

* * *

Back in his own lil studio apartment later that Night, Richie found it almost impossible to get to sleep once he finally dragged himself off to bed. It wasn’t a matter of whether it was right off the Ventura Highway in Sherman Oaks, or his neighbors being noisy like they often were. No, his troubles with sleeping tonight were all in his head, and it was driving him more than a lil crazy as he pulled his pillow over his head with an irritated groan.

He hadn’t been able to get Lyric Dall’s image outta his head ever since he’d met her that afternoon, especially after feeling that spark when they shook hands. The fact that she was a married, obviously-pregnant woman couldn’t seem to get her image outta his head, either. Even though he didn’t know her from Eve’s house Cat, he could already tell through that lone touch that she was unlike any woman he’d ever met. But his own upbringing was what’d him at War with himself instead of falling asleep like he shoulda after a long, exhausting Day that normally woulda had him knocked out already.

Richie’d been raised not to mess with a taken woman, and the fact that this one was just that made him wanna resist his attraction to her. Besides, he already got the feeling that Bobby was a possessive bastard, and that things wouldn’t End well, if he caught him messing with his wife. Whether he wound up joining the band he’d auditioned for or not, nothing was gonna be pretty for anyone, if that happened. And having to fend off a territorial man avenging his wife’s Honor wasn’t exactly something on his personal bucket list.

At the same Time, part of him wanted to try coaxing this young woman away from her husband, despite the fact that he could feel the Love radiating from the pair before they’d all went their separate ways. She was simply too gorgeous _not_ to fantasize about, and there’d to be a reason why he’d have felt a literal spark when their hands touched. But those Thoughts–which were the ones at War with those sparked by his upbringing–were what drove him outta bed again around one in the Morn. He saw no reason to keep torturing himself when he clearly wasn’t gonna get any sleep anytime soon, even though he’d to be at the studio around eight. If he’d to torture himself at all, he’d prefer sitting up, or maybe jumping in the shower to make things less messy.

“Maybe working it outta my system, as it were, will help get her outta my head,” Richie sighed as he trudged through his closet to his bathroom.

The next Morn, Bobby was the first of the three remaining actual members of Poison to arrive at the studio they’d used when recording their sophomore album a few Years ago. It was the they’d agreed to meet up at to jam, although that didn’t necessarily mean it’d be used for recording any Future albums. First of all, they’d to find a replacement for CC–they’d never get to record again, if they didn’t, since none of the rest of them were good enough on guitar to play lead. Secondly, even if and when they found such a replacement–assuming things with yesterday’s audition didn’t work out, that is–they might decide on a different studio to actually record in.

Walking into the actual jamming area with Zep sleepily riding on his hip, he was more than a bit surprised to see a body slumped over on the couch arm. One of the person’s arms appeared to be under their head–which sported long, brown hair–almost like a pillow, the other positioned so their hand was palm-up in their lap. From what he could tell, the poor fool slumped on the couch was dead asleep, ’cuz it appeared their breathing was slow and deep like someone deep enough into sleep to be Dreaming.

Setting his sleepy son down in the chair next to the couch, the young bassist reached out to gently brush the person’s hair back so he could figure out who it was. He’d to bite back a laugh when he realized it was young Richie, who didn’t so much as flinch when he tucked his hair behind his ear. Judging by the obvious bags under his eyes and the Dark circles around them, he’d a late Night before somehow getting here on his own.

Bobby decided to try being as gentle as he possibly could, as if he were trying to wake his son from a nap instead of a grown man. The poor guy grunted when he felt his hand on his shoulder before he managed to rub his upper back, which seemed to make him start awake. Wide, blue eyes peered up at him once they flew open, his breathing now erratic compared to just moments before. Once he registered who’d woken him up, he pushed himself upright and gave a back-cracking stretch that made him groan before rubbing his eyes. The young bassist simply chuckled softly, more than willing to give him a couple minutesta wake up a bit more, which he doubted the others’d do.

“What on Earth’re ya sleeping on the studio couch for?” he asked once he greeted him.

“Didn’t even realize I fell asleep,” Richie answered, pausing to clear his throat. “Last thing I remember was holding my head up and zoning out while I was waiting on the rest of ya.”

“Musta gotten here pretty early, then,” the young bassist chuckled. “’Cuz it’s only twenty till nine now.”

“Eh, been here since about seven-thirty,” he told him, rising to stretch his legs now.

“Musta been a helluva party for ya to stay up all Night, then still get here before the rest of us,” Bobby said, settling on the other side of the couch.

“Uh, I wouldn’t exactly call it a party,” the younger brunette chuckled. “And I see ya brought the lil man with ya this Time.”

“Yeah, kinda had to.” He let out another chuckle as said sleepy lil man managed to scoot outta the chair he’d put him in, then crawl up into his lap. “Lyric didn’t wanna get up yet, and I wasn’t gonna just leave him in his crib for who knows how long in a dirty diaper.”

“She feeling all right?” Richie asked, his brow furrowing in concern.

“Late Night with the Morn sickness, kid,” the young bassist laughed. “I don’t think she got to sleep till around four in the Morn.”

“Ouch.” He couldn’t help a sympathetic wince.

“Well, she’d a lot on her mind, too,” Bobby admitted, rubbing his son’s back. “Once she getsta thinking about something, it tendsta keep her up pretty late.”

“Here’s hoping she catches up on her sleep, then,” the younger brunette chuckled. “God knows I Wish _I’d_ that option instead of an accidental Cat-nap since I’d a lot on my mind last Night, too.”

He wasn’t expecting the smirk the older brunette shot at him when he looked up again. “If I can hazard a guess… Something along the lines of silky brown hair and slightly-exotic features keptcha up?”

Richie’s eyes widened, and he wasn’t too sure how to respond to that.

“Kid, I saw how ya were looking at Lyric yesterday,” the young bassist laughed. “Ya don’t think I don’t have my moments when I’m shooting her the _same_ lusty looks, do ya?”

 _“Uhhhh…”_ He couldn’t help the urge to reach up and rub the back of his neck sheepishly.

Bobby let out another laugh as he assured him that he didn’t care if he was looking–his wife could be a bit of a teasing show-off when she got into the right mood. That laughter quickly died away as he sobered up, a stern look of warning crossing his features that made him audibly gulp. He made it quite clear that it was only if he started messing with his wife behind his back that they’d have a problem, ’cuz that was what was gonna make him turn into a territorial ass.

Richie was more than a lil surprised when he continued by saying that–as said wife’d put it to him yestereve–there was a big difference between that and trying to hide such actions from him. He couldn’t say why, but he actually liked him, and he really didn’t wanna kick his ass over something as stupid as that. Maybe he’d need Time to really ponder his wife’s words, but this wasn’t exactly the Time or placeta be doing such a thing.

Nodding, the young man agreed that it was something that could be thought and even talked about later, if only ’cuz he didn’t want the blonde half of the band walking in on such a thing. That was something the older brunette agreed with wholeheartedly–if he ever choseta share his wife with another man, it was none of their business. He said that the only Time they’d need to know’d be if he choseta share Lyric, especially if he was sharing her with any other band mate that wasn’t them. Until and unless such a thing happened–most especially if he thought it’d start posing problems within the band–not a word needed to breathed in front of them.

Richie couldn’t help heaving a sigh of relief that–even though he’d been had on lusting after the man’s wife apparently more openly than he’d realized–Bobby wasn’t pissed at him for it. Maybe this was the start of a new friendship unlike any other he’d ever had that’d last a Lifetime, which could only bode well for him joining this band of veteran, if Chaotic rockers.


	3. Three

_December, 1991_

A month after meeting him, the rest of Poison’d long since come to the definitive decision that Richie wasta be their newest band member. They all agreed that his playing was absolutely phenomenal, and they weren’t likely to find that kinda talent anywhere else. Sure, their other top choice–a guy by the name of Blues Saraceno–was no dummy with a guitar or piano either one, but even _his_ wasn’t as talented as this young prodigy was.

On the Day before Zep’s first birthday–which was supposed to be their last jam Day before they split up for the holidays–the remaining original members of the band were awaiting their newest band mate. He somehow usually beat even Bobby to the studio, and said bassist’d to be the most prompt band member besides him. It wasn’t just being a father that made him that way, either–he’d been referred to as the band slave-driver many Times over the Years. After all, he’d grown up so poor, there’d been plenty of Times that he was lucky to get two squares a Day, and he never wanted to go back to that.

Even Rikki was starting to get irritated, the way he twirled his sticks as they waited being a clear sign of that irritation. It was pretty obvious they were all thinking the same thing–that Richie was gonna be a no-show, thus giving the vocalist a reason to explode on him, if and when he _did_ show up. But none of them were expecting the young man to storm in with a Thunder Cloud so Dark, it scared even the bassist Dominating his face, his fists clenched around his case and amp handles in a white-knuckle grip.

“Some fuckin’ Christmas present to wake up to this Morn,” he grumbled. Somehow, he managed to take care _not_ to just throw his gear like he no doubt wanted to.

“Um, good Morn to _you,_ too,” the drummer said hesitantly.

“Sorry, guys–wasn’t trying to be so late getting here,” Richie grumbled. “Woke up to a damn eviction notice on my front door.”

“Damn, seriously?” Even Bret looked sympathetic when he said that.

“Landlord’s a shady bastard,” the younger brunette growled. “Been giving him the check every month, but his records show that I’m three months behind in rent.”

“Sounds like he’s been doing something else with the money once he cashes those checks,” the taller blonde mused.

“That, or he’s been ripping them up,” Bobby said, his brow furrowed with frown.

“Had to’ve been ripping them up,” he told them. “’Cuz when I stopped by the bank on my way here, they haven’t any records of the right amounts being withdrawn that’d suggest he’d been cashing the checks.”

“Guess you’re stuck spending your holidays finding a new place, huh?” the vocalist asked.

“And therein lies the problem,” Richie sighed, unpacking his guitar. “I can’t afford anything else in the area since I’m pretty much in starving artist mode.”

Rikki glanced over at the one band mate who hadn’t said much, and he could practically see the wheels in his head turning. “Whatcha thinkin’, Bob?”

“Shut up, asshat–ya know I hate being called that,” the bassist growled. “And don’t worry about it.”

This made what was now the Melody section of their band cock their brows at him curiously.

“Gotta make a phone call before I even remotely mention it, but we need to get to jamming or just leave,” Bobby chuckled. “We paid good money for today, but if we’re not gonna use the Space, we might as well free it up for someone else.”

“Point taken,” the younger brunette said. “Besides, I need to get my mind off this shit for a lil while, or I’ma be out with a migraine for three Days again.”

“Jamming it is, then,” he laughed. “’Cuz Lyric and I both know your pain there.”

* * *

Later that afternoon, when everybody split up for lunch, Bobby took his chanceta sneak away and make as quick a call home as he possibly could. Hearing about his young new band mate’s housing situation’d struck a chord in him, ’cuz he remembered his own starving artist Days of roughly a decade ago all too well. That’d sparked an idea of how he could help him–not to mention get him corralled for something his wife wanted to talk to him about–but he’d to call said wife before he even mentioned it.

 _“LA County Sperm Bank_ – _you squeeze it, we freeze it!”_

The young bassist couldn’t help cracking up when he heard his wife’s greeting, ’cuz it was certainly a Creative way to answer the phone. “Sweet Lady, now I see why we stopped getting calls from telemarketers!”

 _“Hey, it works!”_ Lyric laughed. _“So, how’s it going today?”_

“Eh, not too bad overall,” he told her. “Could be better for one of us, though.”

 _“Oh_ – _and what proverbial tragedy’s decided to take place so closeta_ Yule _and Christmas?”_ the young woman asked curiously.

“Richie woke up to an eviction notice this Morn,” Bobby said after taking a quick look around to make sure he was still alone. “Says his landlord’s a shady fuck that hasn’t been cashing the checks he’s been giving him to pay his rent like he shoulda.”

 _“Ouch.”_ He could imagine the look on his wife’s face as she winced. _“Lemme guess_ – _he can’t afford anything else, can he?”_

“That’s what he says, yeah,” the young bassist told her. “Considering he finally told me not too long ago that he’s only twenty-one, I’m inclined to believe him.”

 _“Then corral him and offer him the_ cabaña, _for all I care,”_ Lyric said. _“I’ll be damned, if that boy goes homeless when we’ve plenty of extra Space, my attraction to him be damned.”_

“I kinda figured you’d say that,” he chuckled. “But I still wanted to call ya about it before I pulled him aside.”

 _“You’re fifty different kindsa stupid-crazy, if ya think I’d say anything else,”_ the young woman retorted. _“I mean, for the Love of the Goddess_ – _I was pretty much homeless when we met! The only reason I’d a roof over my head was ’cuz Mark took pity on me!”_

“I know, I know, sweetheart,” Bobby said. “But I still wasn’t gonna make such an offer without us talking about it first. We’re in this marriage–legal or otherwise–together, after all.”

His wife made no bones about making him sleep in the hammock strung up in the aforementioned _cabaña,_ if he dared turn his back on his band mate when he needed help the most. There was no way he was giving her reason to throw him into the Dog house, even if it was a damned nice Dog house, so to speak. Even though an average low for the area in December was around forty-seven, he didn’t fancy sleeping outside–despite the fireplace out there–with it that chilly.

Bidding Lyric a good afternoon on the promise he’d be home by five or six, the young bassist decided to go hunt down that youngest band mate. Hopefully, he’d be able to catch him without any producers or any other staff around before the blonde half of their band Returned from lunch. After all, this wasn’t exactly something he wanted to discuss in front of them, and he figured said younger man’d feel the same way.

Richie glanced up when he heard a soft hiss, a bit surprised to see the older brunette gesturing for him to follow him. He couldn’t help wondering what he wanted, and even though part of him momentarily thought he was trying to lure him to his Death, he couldn’t help wanting to do as he bade. If nothing else, it’d give his hands a few minutesta have a break since he hadn’t bothered to stop playing for lunch like the others. There was simply too much on his mind for him to care about getting food, and besides, he was already in penny-pinching mode since he’d need every dime he could scrounge to find a new home.

“What’s up, Bobby?” he asked once they’d disappeared to the alley that ran behind the studio.

“Rob, unless ya want your head knocked off when we’re not dealing with band shit,” Bobby chuckled, looking up after lighting a smoke.

The younger brunette nodded, even as he took a couple steps back since he wasn’t exactly fond of cigarette smoke.

“I’ma make it clear right off the bat–completely up to you whether ya jump on this, all right?” he said, raising his smoke for another drag.

“Um, all right,” Richie agreed a bit hesitantly.

“You’re not gonna be homeless, holiday Season be damned, if I’ve my way about it,” the older brunette told him. “Not if you’re as smart a kid as ya strike me, anywhore.”

He couldn’t help how his eyes widened in surprise as he listened.

“When Rikki asked me what I was thinking earlier, I wasn’t gonna say in front of him and Bret that I was thinking about offering up one of the rooms at my place,” Bobby explained.

“Ya don’t–” the younger brunette started, only to be cut off when he held up his hand before taking another drag.

“Lemme letcha in on a lil Secret, kid,” he said. “Lyric was homeless when we met last Year–only reason she’d a roof over her head at the Time was ’cuz the owner of the bar she wound up working for took pity on her and decided to share the two-bedroom apartment over the bar.”

Richie couldn’t help a sympathetic wince.

“Besides, I remember my own starving artist Days–they weren’t really that long ago, after all,” the older brunette continued. “Squatting in a warehouse in East LA with those two dunces and either our original guitarist or CC in the early Years was only different from my childhood ’cuz I didn’t exactly have my family to fall back on.”

“I’m not sure if I wanna or even _should_ ask whatcha mean,” he admitted.

“Mama and my older siblings live out in Penn,” Bobby chuckled. “We purposely came out West to force ourselves into working that much harder so we’d actually make it to the big leagues, as it were.”

The younger brunette was surprised to find out this man was apparently from Pennsylvania, too, but decided to ask about that some other Time.

“Anywhore, all those things combined with Lyric threatening to make me sleep in the Dog house–even if it’s a damned nice Dog house–couldn’t make me bite my tongue on this offer,” he told him. “Outta seven or eight bedrooms, there’s only two being used right now.”

Richie’s eyes somehow widened further when he told him that, now starting to get why he was even contemplating offering up a room in his houseta him. He’d more than enough Spaceta do it, whether they knew each other very well or not, and while he kinda _was_ taking pity on him, he was doing it in a relatively nice way. Not many’d say it was his choice, rather than either forcing him into accepting or simply leaving him to fend for himself on the streets, after all.

Bobby chuckled as he tossed his cigarette butt down next to him, quickly stomping it out with the heel of his boot before it set anything ablaze. Once again, he told him it was ultimately up to him, but he was quick to say that he hoped he wouldn’t make a stupid choice for a stupid reason. He was well aware that he might be a totally different person in private, and that being attracted to his wife was bound to be hard on him. But considering that said wife was equally attracted to the younger brunette in Return, he didn’t think that’d be as big a problem for any of them. Turning to head back inside for the moment, he knew that the only way they’d find out was if he decided to take him up on the offer he’d made.

After Bret and Rikki’d left for the Day, Richie found himself alone with the other brunette of his new band, and he couldn’t help feeling a bit nervous. He’d been thinking over that surprising offer while they were jamming, just passing off any flighty behavior as simply thinking about what he’d revealed that Morn. By the Time he’d packed up his gear, he’d made up his mind–even helping pay the utilities at the older brunette’s place beat being homeless ’cuz his current landlord was a shady ass.

Taking care not to put himself into a position where he might get hit, he reached out and gently grabbed his shoulder before he could leave. Bobby cocked a brow as he glanced over his shoulder at him, a smirk curving his lips as he simply nodded Silently. He didn’t actually need to say anything for him to figure out that he’d decided to take him up on his offer from earlier that afternoon, so he just jerked his head toward the main entrance. After all, he wasn’t in the market of spreading his band mates’ business like butter on a biscuit, as his decidedly Southern wife’d say. If he wouldn’t do that to Bret and Rikki, there was no need to do that to this young man, no matter how long and well they’d known each other.

“Just follow me back to the house so I can follow _you_ to your place,” the older brunette told him once they were outta earshot of anyone else. “It’ll prolly be easier to load up your stuff, if I swap my car for Lyric’s truck.”

“She’s definitely a Southern Belle, isn’t she?” Richie chuckled as he popped the trunk of his own car.

“Born and raised in North Carolina, half of her family before her from Tennessee,” he laughed. “Not only that, but one of us’d to have something more family-friendly, and since I refuseta give up my Firebird…”

“Hey, I don’t blame ya, man,” the younger brunette said with a laugh of his own. “Unless I’m mistaken, she’s a ’74, so twenty Years older than my own, but still a Beauty.”

“Good eye.” Bobby grinned as he slammed his trunk shut. “But yeah, prolly not exactly conducive to moving, depending on what all you’ve got.”

“Not much, honestly.” He couldn’t help a sigh. “Hell, I barely managed to buy the shitty lil couch and Twin bed just so I’d have something to sit and sleep on.”

“Then we’re not even worrying about it,” the older brunette told him. “No sense in dragging shitty furniture to the house, my neck problems notwithstanding, when the bedrooms’re all furnished far better than that.”

“What’s wrong with your neck?” Richie asked, looking curiously confused.

“Couple herniated discs from a dumbass motorcycle wreck a few Years ago,” he laughed. “Doesn’t seem like it, but I walk around in pain every Day I wake up–no need to make it worse with unnecessary heavy-lifting, if ya ask me.”

“Ouch,” the younger brunette winced. “Yeah, if I’ve to choose between that and hauling shitty furniture myself to keep _you_ from getting hurt worse, I’ll leave the shitty furniture.”

Letting out another laugh as he settled in his driver’s seat, Bobby reached out to slam the door shut behind him while he was heading around to the other side of his own car. He knew he was more than capable of breaking down shit like a Twin bed and getting it out to his wife’s truck, even with his neck in the shape it was in. But much like his new band mate, he saw no reason to put himself through that, if he didn’t have to–not when all his guest rooms were already furnished, that is.

The older brunette kept a sharp eye on his rearview mirror as he headed West on Melrose, then hung a right onto Fairfax Avenue. He didn’t live but ten miles or so from the studio they’d been jamming at, but he knew this poor kid was about to get a serious culture shock. Even if he drove through the Beverly Hills area to get to said studio, he doubted Richie’d ever thought he’d get to _live_ in such an area. It was notoriously full of rock and movie stars, and just those otherwise loaded to the gills and then some, so most folks prolly thought they’d never get to even drive through the area. But the Truth of the matter was that the house he was leading him to–not to mention opening up to him as his new home–was in the prestigious area of Mulholland Estates.

Said younger brunette’s jaw dropped as he followed him down into the neighborhood in question, considering that he passed it every Day on his way to the studio. In fact, he knew for a fact as they slowed to the point that they were forced to downshift into second gear that he was only about three miles from his apartment. He hadn’t realized that any of his new band mates lived quite this closeta him, or he’d have been dropping by to pick at least this one up. They no doubt coulda worked out something as far as him getting gas money went, if he’d really wanted to be an ass since he wasn’t exactly going outta his way.

“More than a lil star-struck, huh?” Bobby chuckled as he climbed outta his car once he’d parked in his driveway.

“Uh, something like that,” he answered, closing his own door after making sure it was locked.

“Hey, at your age, I couldn’t imagine living somewhere like this, either,” the older brunette told him.

“Well, it’s that as much as realizing exactly _where_ we are,” Richie said as he followed him into his garage. “My apartment’s all of three miles from here, and if it’s not, then it’s by, like–a tenth of a mile or something.”

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he laughed. “Ya live about as closeta me now as we’ll both be to Rikki once we getcha moved in.”

“Damn, really?” the younger brunette asked as he dug out his keys.

“He lives about three miles back that way,” Bobby answered, gesturing toward the East. “But I know why _he_ wouldn’t have madeja this kinda offer.”

“I’m not sure I should ask,” he chuckled.

“Damn _fiancé_ of his, Deanna,” the older brunette told him. “I daresay the bitch wouldn’t even let him take Zep for the Night, if we needed him to. But what can a man do besides call a different friend for a babysitter, even if he’s trying to get his laboring wife to the hospital, right?”

“Hopefully, you’ve a different plan for when that happens,” Richie mused.

“Still got about four months, so we’re trying to decide on entrusting Bret with him, or getting Mama to fly out here,” he admitted.

“Well, I’d offer to, but we’ll save that for after we get to know each other better,” the younger brunette told him.

“Fair enough, kid,” Bobby agreed, finally getting the door that opened into the Beginning of the short hall where the secondary stairs came down to. “I _really_ need to change this damn lock since it keeps getting stuck.”

“Lemme get my eyeballs back into my head, and I might be able to help ya with that sometime,” he said, absolutely Awe-struck once he got inside and got a good look at the place.

The older brunette couldn’t help grinning and snickering as he let him head further into the foyer while he was closing that connecting door to the garage. He could already hear Zep giggling from the kitchen, which most likely meant his wife was being silly to entertain him while she was working on dinner. No doubt that dinner’d be enough to feed three adults–one of whom was packing it away for two–and a growing boy who was more like a bottomless pit for once.

Catching his attention, he gestured to Richie so he’d follow him through the family room, knowing he’d prolly like the medium, but warm-toned paneling that ensconced the majority of the room. Heading through the doorway immediately to his right after stepping down, he wasn’t disappointed to find Lyric in front of the stove. Their son was in his high chair, turned so he spotted him almost immediately, which made his lil eyes Light up with excitement. All it took to keep him quiet so he wouldn’t give him away was a finger held up to his lips, which allowed him to sneak up behind said wife. She didn’t seem to react to him gently covering her eyes from behind to an outside party, but he could feel how she tensed marginally.

“Your name better be Rob, or I’ma stab ya with the first knife I get my hands on,” she said, and he could tell she was smirking as she spoke.

“Good thing my name _is_ Rob, huh?” Bobby laughed, uncovering her eyes so she could turn around.

 _“Benvenuto a casa, amore,”_ the young woman chuckled as she rose on tiptoe.

 _“Come un caloroso benvenuto è, troppo,”_ he all but hummed as he leaned down to meet her halfway.

“Da-da!” Zep cried from his high chair.

“How can Daddy forget about mah lil man?” the older brunette asked, heading over to ruffle his hair.

That earned him a squeal as he batted at his hand, then quickly turned his attention elsewhere when he noticed another person. “’ichie!”

“Did he actually say my name?” Richie laughed. “Well, minus a letter, but still.”

“He’s a smart cookie like that,” Lyric giggled. “Must come from his daddy since I never met his mama.”

“Wait, I thought you–” he started.

“Only on paper,” the young woman explained. “No shared genes between us, but we’ll explain that to him when he’s older.”

“Take it from a man who learned the hard way, kid–don’t stick your dick in crazy unless it’s the _good_ kinda crazy like Lyric is,” Bobby chuckled. “You’re better off sticking it in a meat grinder, if ya don’t wanna take the chance of losing a kid like I unknowingly did.”

“I’m not even gonna ask, man,” he told him.

“Prolly bestcha don’t–it’s not something either of us like thinking about.” His wife moved to continue working on dinner as she talked. “Take him on up–or down, if he prefers–and let him pick which room he wants. I’ll clear out any knick-knacks and whatnot once I get this Chicken and rice going while y’all’re packing up wherever he’s living now.”

“Suits the hell outta me,” the older brunette agreed, turning to him. “Your choice of three bedrooms upstairs, or one of the three in the basement, kid.”

“Damn, seriously?” Richie couldn’t help an impressed whistle.

“Only rooms being used’re the master suite–for obvious reasons–and the one we turned into Zep’s nursery.” He shrugged as he turned for the kitchen doorway that led back to the foyer. “Everything else’s either a guest room, or used as something like my Music room.”

The younger brunette couldn’t help another impressed whistle as he made to follow him, if only ’cuz this house and all its doorways seemed confusing at first glance. He was sure he’d get it memorized eventually, but till that Day came, he almost felt like he needed to leave a trail of bread crumbs behind him. Still, he gestured toward the second story, saying he might as well take one of the rooms upstairs rather than making himself seem like some kinda antisocial recluse by taking one in the basement.

Nodding, Bobby led him up that same grand, curving staircase that’d once Awed Casey and Maci as much as it was currently Awing his new band mate. At the top of the stairs, he pointed out the double doors that currently hid the master suite from view and told him he’d better have a damn good reason for ever invading his private Space. He got annoyed enough with Bret and Rikki barging in whenever they felt like it, even before he’d met his wife–after that Morn a few months ago, it really irked him. Richie assured him that he wouldn’t bother invading his private Space unless the house was burning down or something equally serious, ’cuz he’d feel a lil too weird about such a thing for any other reason.

After that, the older brunette pointed out the bedroom right next to the elevator doors, which was the one they’d turned into Zep’s nursery after killing the _Flesh and Blood_ tour. On the other side of said elevator was the guest room he’d once put Casey and her daughter in, which he _still_ called the _Red Room_. From there, he’d to loop around where the gallery opened to the foyer before he reached the fourth bedroom up here.

Outta all the bedrooms, it was the only one whose en suite bathroom’d only a shower, not some combination of a tub _and_ shower. Bobby told him that–other than the two he’d already said were taken–he’d his pick, depending on how big of a room he wanted and whether he cared about having a tub or not. He wasn’t the slightest bit surprised when he said that he wasn’t much for taking a bath versus taking a shower, so having just a shower wasn’t a problem for him. That pretty much sealed the deal for him as much as a handshake, so he turned to head back downstairsta let his wife know what his decision was.

Lyric nodded once he’d gotten back downstairs and told her about said decision, almost immediately chucking her keys at him. She told him she couldn’t imagine trying to load anything into his Firebird unless he wanted to make a dozen trips, so she’d already decided on letting him drive her truck before he’d even thought about it. But she was quick to warn him that if he put so much as a scratch on it for any reason except trying to avoid a wreck, she’d teach him what a ball cage was. He and Richie shot a look at each other, neither too sure they wanted to know what that was, before he looked back at her and swore no such thing’d happen. But before he could even tell her and their son goodbye, she was yanking them both onto a bar stool to braid their hair for them before sending them off with at least a snack to tide them over till they could Return for dinner.


	4. Four

“Well, it’s not much, but it was good enough for what _I_ needed when I first moved in.”

Bobby grunted as he followed the younger brunette through the front door of his lil apartment, which just happened to overlook the complex’s pool. Said pool butted right up against Van Nuys Boulevard, which was one of the main thoroughfares through the area. Well, that was if one _didn’t_ count things like the four-oh-five and Highway One-oh-One, which ran North-to-South about a mile from here and East-to-West about a thousand feet South of them, respectively.

The kitchen was immediately to his left when he walked in, and it was practically the size of a coat closet compared to the one in his own house. Course, if Richie was a single guy living by himself, he really didn’t need anything bigger than that, if he were honest with himself. He also didn’t need much beyond the bathroom to his right that was barely big enough to brush his teeth and take a piss in, either.

Directly in front of him was the small, sparsely-furnished living room, which sported that ratty lil couch he’d mentioned and a TV on the wall facing away from the balcony door. To either side of said TV were either guitars that apparently lived on their stands more often than they didn’t, or amps that he couldn’t or didn’t wanna store elsewhere. Behind him against the other wall was the shitty lil Twin bed he’d also mentioned, which no doubt made him wake with a sore back more often than it didn’t. He couldn’t help a snicker at the Thought of how in Love he’d fall with Lyric’s _magick hands_ once she got them on him. The poor guy’d be a puddle of goo that wouldn’t wanna move for a week, if he reacted anywhere near like he did, himself.

Said poor young guy cocked a brow at him, apparently thinking he was laughing at how he was living in squalor compared to the likes of himself and the rest of their band mates. Bobby actually laughed aloud as he explained what he’d been thinking, which wasn’t meant to be taken as him making fun of him. It was just that he knew how his wife was, that she’d yank just about anybody she could tell was in pain down to sit between her knees and go to town on them. Once she was done with them, they’d practically lean back on her and fall asleep–till she damn near shoved them in the floor so she could breathe.

“She did that to Bret and Rikki all the fuckin’ Time before we started dating,” he chuckled. “Hell, sometimes she’d do that, even _after_ I begged her for that first date.”

“Damn, really?” Richie asked, disappearing into the closet–which was more of an _actual_ closet and a linen closet on either side of a small hallway that connected his living-slash-bedroom to his bathroom.

“Turns out she’s a case of juvenile rheumatoid arthritis that’s since dropped the juvenile part,” the older brunette answered. “She’s lived so much of her Life in pain with no one to do something like give her the occasional massage that she takes a _do-unto-others-as-you’d-have-done-unto-you_ kinda mentality with that.”

“Can’t say I’ve ever met a woman willing to dish out a massage for nothing in Return,” he mused as he started pulling his clothes off hangers.

“Well, now ya _have,_ ’cuz that’s Lyric in a nutshell,” Bobby told him. “Anything in the kitchen that needsta be packed up?”

“Just a china set that I barely rescued before I moved out here,” the younger brunette answered. “It belonged to my dad’s mom, and he was gonna sell it in a garage sale.”

“I’m guessing ya packed it in with your own stuff?” he asked.

“And got the hell outta Dodge before he could notice,” Richie laughed. “When I talked to him right after I got settled in, he asked if I knew what happened to it. My answer–last place I saw it was the attic, so if it wasn’t there, I didn’t know where else he could possibly look for it.”

“Such a devious lil bastard,” the older brunette chuckled. “But my wife’s the same way–you’d never think she’s even half as devious as she is just by looking at her, but get her started, and there’s no putting the brakes on _that_ crazy train.”

Richie couldn’t help a laugh as he made to start folding his clothes so they’d fit into the tote they’d borrowed from the young woman in question a lil better.

“Hold that Thought for a sec, kid,” he told him, gesturing toward the kitchen.

Cocking a brow, the younger brunette dragged the tote behind him when he gestured like he wanted him to bring it with him as he followed. He wasn’t quite sure what kinda Madness he was cooking up, but something told him to just trust that the guy knew what he was doing. But he wasn’t expecting him to open every cabinet in his tiny kitchen till he found what he was looking for, which prompted him into snatching one of his shirts outta the tote.

Bobby laughed as he wrapped one of the plates that was no doubt part of the china set he’d mentioned in the shirt he’d snatched up, then carefully laid it on the counter. This was a trick that his wife’d inadvertently taught him, ’cuz she’d a china set of her own that she’d pretty much stolen from her mother for the same reasons. Apparently, it’d belonged to a great-grandmother that was now dead and gone, and she hadn’t thought her tyrannical, abusive mother worthy of such a possession. He’d wondered why on Earth her totes were so heavy–till they’d gotten them to his house and started unpacking them over the band’s Winter break last Year.

Richie pondered the Wisdom of wrapping such delicate items in his own clothing, and he couldn’t say there wasn’t merit in the idea. After all, said clothing’d to be packed up to be taken with him since he wasn’t about to run around the Dalls’ home stark nekkid. Using that as padding made sense, given that he’d have to hunt down newspaper or something else instead, which’d be a waste of Time and Energy.

“I thought I toldja not to come back once ya left this Morn!”

Both brunettes turned to face the bathroom door, which was right next to the _front_ door, when they heard a third masculine voice. The younger of them looked more than a lil startled, while an almost sadistic smile crossed the face of the older one–which made him look wary. He didn’t know that the man taking him in already knew the bastard who was so red, he looked like he’d explode at any given second. If he’d known that, he wouldn’t have bothered trying to stop him from turning to the man since he generally tried to keep his head down more than he didn’t. Confrontation wasn’t exactly something he was big on if it could be avoided, and this was one of those Times that he’d rather avoid it.

“Well, well, well–look what Rat the Cat dragged in this Time,” Bobby said. The tone in his voice was far more malicious than anything he’d heard outta him in the last month.

“What the–Bobby?”

The younger brunette’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Didn’t I ever tell ya that you’d better hope we never crossed Paths again, Carl?” he asked, butting his hip against the counter next to him. “’Cuz if we did, I was gonna have a _lot_ to say aboutcha–and _none_ of it was gonna be very nice.”

His current, shady-as-fuck landlord, Carl, seemed to flounder for a response.

“’Cuz I seem to recall thatcha not only stole _my_ personal property, but that of my friends, as well,” the older brunette said. “And due to all four of us combined not having the money to fight back in court, we wound up losing that, our deposits, _and_ all the fees we’d to pay out _to_ said court and the attorneys.”

He hadn’t ever felt more confused in his Life, but he didn’t dare ask what he was talking about just yet.

“Now, unless you’d rather deal with a man older, wiser, and far more loaded than I was four Years ago, I’d suggestcha get the fuck outta here, Carl,” Bobby snarled. “’Cuz according to Law, he’s thirty Days from the Time of the eviction noticeta collect his belongings–only _after_ those thirty Days do they become _yoursta_ do whatever ya please with.”

His landlord started to growl something in response, then clearly thought better of it when he pushed away from the counter and started to stalk him like a Mouse.

 _“Or_ we can settle this the old-fashioned way by duking it out,” the older brunette snapped. “’Cuz I’m spread a lot thinner on Patience than I used to be.”

Richie was more than surprised when the bastard blanched, turned, and hauled ass out the front door like his ass was on Fire just seconds later. He’d watched his band mate reach up like he was tugging at his shirt collar, even though he was wearing a tank top with his button-down unbuttoned. What–besides being so openly threatened with physical Violence–had made him take off like he was staring into the eyes of the devil, himself like that?

The younger brunette’s eyes widened once again when Bobby turned back to him and he saw what he considered a symbol of pure evil hanging around his neck. He’d known he wore _some_ kinda necklace every Day–it was kinda hard to miss the chain that draped over his fairly prominent collarbones, after all. But he hadn’t thought the pendant that was usually hidden under his shirt was one considered evil by more folks than it wasn’t.

Grabbing the next piece of the china set, the older brunette rolled his eyes and told him that now wasn’t the Time or placeta explain. All he’d say on the matter was that the pendant he was allowing to hang in plain sight _wasn’t_ evil unless Intentionally used that way–which could be said about the cross, or just about any other religious symbol. Even as he continued with what he’d been doing, he said that a good example of a religious symbol associated with evil due to how it was used was the Swastika. Much like the Pentacle he wore, it originally had a completely different meaning, but was now associated with Nazi Germany and anti-Semitism. Therefore, most people considered it to be evil when it really wasn’t the symbol, itself that was, but rather, how it’d been used.

He couldn’t help cocking his head almost like a curious puppy as he thought about that, something else now rattling around his brain. Considering he’d thought all the members of the band he’d joined were some denomination of Christian, Richie couldn’t help wondering how on Earth he knew this kinda shit. That earned him a laugh and the response that it was one of those things they were better off waiting till they were back at the houseta get into. But it wasn’t simply to avoid someone like Carl walking in and overhearing something they shouldn’t–it was also ’cuz apparently, his wife was better at explaining it than he was.

Not a full two hours after their arrival, the pair of brunettes’d packed up all of his meager belongings and hauled them down to Lyric’s truck. Most of it was put in the truck bed since it was so much bigger than his back seat and trunk combined, which they’d more than expected. Bobby warned him that if he expected him to help unload it, they were prolly gonna wait till the Day after tomorrow, ’cuz his neck was starting to hurt. Otherwise, he was more than free to unload it himself, if he didn’t wanna just leave all but his clothes where it was for even that short period of Time. After all, the truck was gonna be locked up in the garage, so it wasn’t like anything was gonna get rained on, or had a high chance of getting stolen while they were asleep.

It was after dinner another couple hours after they’d headed back to the older brunette’s house that all three of the adults were relaxing under the _cabaña_. The Weather’d been so warm that Day that while it was a hair chilly now, it wasn’t anything they couldn’t handle. After all, they were all wearing jeans and some kinda Light jacket or something, not to mention had the fireplace lit for both heat and Light.

“So, why on Earth’re ya wearing that Pentagram?” Richie finally asked from where he lounged in one of the arm chairs.

“First of all, it’s not a Pentagram–it’s a _Pentacle,”_ he corrected him with a laugh.

“Seems like the same thing to me,” the younger brunette said, his brow furrowing.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Lyric laughed. “The Pentagram’s _just_ the five-pointed Star–the _Pentacle’s_ that same Star enclosed by a Circle.”

“So, what’s the difference? ’Cuz now I’m confused,” Richie admitted.

“Both’re a physical symbol of the Five Elements–Spirit, Earth, Air, Fire, and Water,” the young woman explained. “The Circle that surrounds a Pentagram and turns it into a Pentacle turns it into a symbol of Protection.”

“Basically means that this symbol’s as protective to us as your cross is to _you,”_ Bobby chuckled.

“And before ya ask, it’s all in how it’s used, whether it’s good or bad,” she continued. “Fifth-point-up or -down doesn’t mean shit when it comesta that Age-old _good versus evil_ trope that’s been beaten to Death and then some over the decades.”

The younger brunette couldn’t help cocking a brow curiously, even as he toyed with the cross pendant hanging around his own neck.

“As far as Pagan symbols go, the Pentagram ain’t a representation of good versus evil–it’s a symbol of our Faith, a symbol of the Five Elements, one for each point, and the Circle, which some consider to symbolize the Universe, contains and connects ’em all,” Lyric explained. “No matter which way it’s facing, there’s nothing _bad_ about it.”

“Like we said, it’s all in how it’s used,” her husband reiterated.

“Exactly. Another misconception about the Pentagram in Paganism’s which way it points,” the young woman continued. “Again, you’ll find common misinformation that says the Pentagram’s _evil,_ if fifth-point-down and _good,_ if fifth-point-up.”

“That’s ’cuz the point-down version’s most commonly associated with Satanism, which’s ’cuz the largest branch of Satanism–the Church of Satan, established in 1966–adopted the inverted Pentagram with a Goat head inside it as their symbol,” Bobby said.

He couldn’t help but be enthralled as they explained that in actuality, the symbols in question were Traditionally used both point-up _and_ point-down. Point-up Pentagrams and Pentacles were more common, but point-down Pentagrams and Pentacles weren’t considered evil at all. In fact, the point-up Pentagram was said to represent the Spirit ascending above matter–which was ’cuz the top, fifth point represented the Element of Spirit, while the other four points represented the four Earthly Elements.

But when a Pentagram and Pentacle alike were fifth-point-down, it was said to represent Spirit descending into matter instead. This was most Traditionally used in lineage Covens during second-degree initiations, ’cuz it was at this point of one’s Spiritual Path that one turned _inward_. In other words, one faced and challenged their _Dark side,_ as it were–their base Emotions, Fears, ignorance, prejudices, etc.–dealt with them, and developed mastery over oneself. In Essence, it was akin to a person gaining maturity and Wisdom as they aged from a child into an adult, for lack of a better way to put it.

Richie wore a thoughtful look as he considered their explanation, slowly nodding as he started to get what they meant. He could see how it wasn’t really different in being a protective symbol–a physical way of saying one’s Higher Power was with them at all Times. Yet at the same Time, he could see how it’d be considered a symbol of evil, and therefore something to be Feared, by the ignorant.

“But that’s exactly why I pulled mine outta my shirt earlier,” Bobby told him. _“I_ know its true meanings, and that that idiot’d assume it was evil and wanna get away from it. It wasn’t that I Intended to use it for any kinda evil, or to actually hurt him–but if it made him _think_ that’s what I was gonna do and leave so we could pack your stuff in Peace…”

“Can’t say it wasn’t a good idea, looking back on it,” he chuckled. “Course, now I’m curious about the Stones in it.”

“They–like the Metal it’s made from–have their own uses and meanings,” the older brunette chuckled. “The Metal’s pure Silver, the Stones being a combination of Amethyst and Sapphire.”

“Damn, really?” Richie asked.

“Ruled by the Moon and called _Luna_ by alchemists, Silver correspondsta Crystals and the letter A,” his wife said. “Its Astrological house’s Cancer. Silver’s sacred to Arianrhod–the _Silver Wheel_ –and Nuadha Argetlam– _Nudd of the Silver Arm_. A couple of its uses’re Protection and _Lunar magick.”_

“Huh,” the younger brunette grunted, a thoughtful look on his face again.

“Moons’re Celestial Globes who don’t have their own orbit, but Circle around a Planet, as we all know,” Lyric continued. “The symbolic meaning of the Moon’s receptivity, reaction, and Reflection–the Moon acts as a Mirror Reflecting the Light from the Sun, and a Mirror’s just glass with a thin layer of Silver.”

“Never knew that, so I guess that old adage about learning something new every Day’s true,” Richie laughed.

“The Moon’s monthly phases, lasting approximately twenty-nine and a-half Days, Waxing to Full and Waning to New, and her magnetic fields Influence the rhythms of the Tides. Not only that, but the Moon’s further associated with femininity, motherliness, cycles, and Changeable Emotions.”

“Hence why we tend to buy more Silver jewelry than not,” Bobby chuckled. “More so for the Protection and connection to the Divine Feminine than anything.”

His wife laughed and gently reminded him that she also hated Gold since she wasn’t a big fan of anything yellow or otherwise yellow-toned. That, and where Silver was considered the Metal of the Goddess by many Pagans, Gold was considered the Metal of the God. She’d the utmost Respect for the male Deities and the role they played in duality, and even though she wasn’t what one’d call a Dianic Witch, she preferred an alliance with her Goddess over her God.

Naturally, the younger brunette was confused about what she meant, which made her grin as she readjusted herself so she was in a more comfortable position. Lyric explained that those who identified as a Dianic Witch were fairly similar to those who followed a patriarchal religion–they completely aligned with their Goddess, and there was usually lil or no mention of a male Deity within their practice. Patriarchal religions were more or less the opposite, what with their alignment with their male Deity, but lil or no mention of a female counterpart–that included the mother of Jesus Christ, the Virgin Mary.

Getting them back on track, though, the young woman explained that the uses for Silver went well beyond what they’d already mentioned. It could be used–as either the Metal or just the Color–in Rituals, spells, or Talismans concerning Moon Goddesses, the female Force, cycles, Emotional and/or hormonal imbalances, Reflecting or neutralizing negativity, Dreams and Intuition, psychic work, and psychic abilities. Aside from that, Silver jewelry could be worn to improve Fertility, not to mention Emotional and hormonal Stability. Considering all the _instability_ within both their Lives–mostly professional, at least for Bobby, but also personal–they felt they could both use all the Balance and Stability they could possibly get. Said older brunette hadn’t thought it’d actually work at first, but once he’d started wearing his Pentacle, he’d almost immediately noticed the difference.

When it came to the Stones in both their pendants, they were picked for their individual uses as much as the Metal was. Amethyst was not only a type of Quartz, much like its Rose Quartz cousin, but it was also a gemstone of Awareness and Wisdom, a great Healer and Spiritual Guide. It was good for Calming and focusing the mind, as well as tapping into one’s Intuition.

“Not only that, but it’s a great Tool for Divination and Dreamwork, as well as for fine-tuning psychic abilities,” Lyric explained. “It’s instrumental for Grounding Energy before and after Ritual and magick work, ’cuz its Energy can Purify Altars and Tools.”

“Damn, talk about a lotta practical uses,” he chuckled.

“Oh, that’s not the only shit it can be used for,” the young woman laughed. “Ya can carry it for Protection, or when seeking Justice, andja can use it in spellsta achieve goals or help Manifest Love. Ya can even use it to foster Harmony, Growth, and Peace, ’cuz it’s a Stone of Change and Transformation that also offers Stability and Strength.”

“Which’s part of the reason _I_ wear it,” Bobby admitted. “But according to one of her books on Crystals, Amethyst also opens the channels for Communication on all levels, including contacting Spirits.”

“Keeping it in your workspace can also help stimulate Inspiration and Creative expression,” his wife said with a grin. “The fact that Amethyst’s associated with the Element Water and its Astrological Influence comes from Jupiter, Neptune, Pluto, the fixed Star Antares, and the Zodiac Constellations of Aquarius, Capricorn, Pisces, Sagittarius, and Virgo’re a few other reasons he picked it as much as I did.”

“My Secondary Element’s Water, and I’ma Scorpio–which’s jointly ruled by Mars and Pluto,” he told him when he cocked his brow.

“Well, that’s if ya go by the twelve-sign Zodiac,” Lyric chuckled.

“Yeah, that’s true since I’ma Libra ruled by Venus, if we go by that _thirteen_ -sign one,” the older brunette agreed with a laugh.

“I’m not even gonna ask before I wind up getting confused,” Richie said.

“It’s one of those things that can be explained some other Time,” she told him. “’Cuz you’re right–too much information all at once’s just gonna overloadja and be too hard to process.”

The young woman said that the fact that it was also starting to get late and they’d all had a long Day prolly wouldn’t help with fending off confusion, either. Richie definitely agreed with that, unable to help the yawn that suddenly snuck up on him–which was quickly mimicked by the couple lounging in the hammock across from him. He was definitely curious and wanted to know more, but figured jotting down a few notesta help him remember the questions he wanted to ask’d prolly be better for all of them.

Nodding as her husband let her get up first, Lyric told him that the only question she considered stupid was an unasked one. If she felt something was too personal for her to answer since they barely knew each other, she wouldn’t hesitate to tell him so, rather than refusing to answer altogether. That also applied to him equally and fairly–if anything she asked him was too personal for the moment, all he’d to do was say so.

Before long, Bobby and his wife’d disappeared into the master suite, said man having quickly checked on his infant son before doing so. Zep was well and thoroughly knocked out in his crib, his eyes flickering under their lids and his lil mouth working at his paci as he Dreamed. The younger brunette couldn’t help a smile as he watched from the End of the gallery that faced the master suite doors, though. After looking into his new band as much as he could over the last month, he hadn’t exactly expected that kinda tenderness outta any of the men who comprised it. Maybe he shoulda realized they weren’t quite as wild as they used to be–or at least, select members weren’t–but that just taught him not to take things as they appeared at first glance.

Settling into his new bedroom, Richie couldn’t help a soft sigh that wasn’t entirely caused by the Cloud of a mattress he was laying on. Just this Morn, he’d thought he was gonna wind up on the streets before the month was out, which was definitely no way to spend Christmas. Otherwise, his only other choice was a homeless shelter, if he Intended to stay out West, or going back home to Pennsylvania. He certainly hadn’t been expecting any of his band mates, least of all the older brunette, to come through for him like this without being asked. It was certainly something to be thankful for as he soon drifted off to sleep, more relaxed than he’d been in quite a while.


	5. Five

Richie was so used to not even _having_ a bedroom door after living in that studio apartment for the last Year or so that he hadn’t even thought about closing the one he now had before he went to bed. It was for that reason that he’d woken almost as soon as Zep started whimpering in his crib, most likely too softly for even the baby monitor to pick up. There’d never been a Night in his Life that he’d slept very well on his first Night in new surroundings, so he’d really just been dozing when that soft whimpering started. No doubt that was why he was awake and already outta bed long before those whimpers could turn into full-on wails instead.

The baby boy looked up at him with big, brown eyes that made him seem more like he’d puppy-Dog eyes when he stepped into the nursery. He couldn’t help a soft, sleepy chuckle as the lil guy reached up to grab the rail of his crib, which he used to haul himself up to his feet. Maybe kids weren’t in his Future–immediate or otherwise–but he couldn’t deny this lil guy was a cutie, no matter who he belonged to.

“Whassa matter, lil guy?” the younger brunette asked as he gently picked him up.

He simply whimpered and squirmed, but it was enough to let him know what was wrong right off the bat.

“Ah, God–whas your mama and daddy been feeding chu?” Richie laughed, turning for the changing table that was against the wall that separated bed- from bathroom.

The lil booger giggled as he laid him down, and he swore it’d a devious note to it.

“I barely know chu, and I can already tell chu’s a ’tinker,” he told him, somehow managing to unbutton his onesie. “Ah, great–lovely surprise this Morn.”

“Found out what a ’sploding diaper is, huh?”

Glancing back over his shoulder at the chuckled question, Richie saw the older brunette leaning against the doorjamb. “Already knew what one was, unfortunately.”

“I’d ask how, but anything’s possible,” he laughed. “Lemme have him, and I’ll get him cleaned up.”

“If you’re sure, ’cuz it won’t be the first Time I’ve gone so far as to sink-bathe a diaper ’sploding rugrat,” the younger brunette told him.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Bobby said, nodding. “He can be a lil picky on who bathes him sometimes.”

“That so, huh?” He smirked down at the baby who was now covering his face shyly. “So, chu’d lemme change chu diaper, but not give chu a baff, huh? Dat’s just silleh since I’d see chu boy parts, either way.”

“That’s my lil rugrat for ya,” the older brunette laughed as he scooped him up.

As he carried him into the en suite bathroom, now that he’d been stripped, he couldn’t help asking why on Earth he’d felt the need to get up with the boy since he obviously wasn’t his father. Richie simply shrugged as he told him that he never really slept well till he got used to new surroundings, so he’d heard his whimpering prolly before even the baby monitor caught it. Given that he’d helped out with a niece and nephew back home before moving out West, he was used to answering infantile cries before even the child’s parents could, even though he wasn’t a father in his own right–that he knew of.

Unable to help a laugh as he knelt down next to the tub once a couple inches of Water’d filled the bottom, Bobby admitted to knowing that feeling all too well. He was the youngest of three kids, and much like their mother before them, his older siblings’d started building families a lot earlier than he had, himself. By the Time he was twenty-five, he was an uncle five Times over, his oldest nephew born when he was just seventeen. Long before he’d moved out West, let alone had his own son, he’d figured out and even forgotten how to change diapers. Granted, all that’d come back to him after a couple weeks, but he was also more used to dealing with babies his son’s current age than a newborn.

He couldn’t help another laugh as he recalled the Day Zep was born and he was introduced to him just hours afterward. If not for Lyric all but shoving the boy into his arms, he prolly wouldn’t have held him right off the bat, if at all ’cuz he’d been terrified of hurting him. But it was the fond smile as he recalled how the lil booger’d grabbed the tip of his braid and wouldn’t let go that sealed the deal prolly as much as his now-wife threatening to beat him silly, if he dared turn his back on his son that made even Richie smile.

“I just–I dunno, man,” the older brunette sighed, that smile never leaving his face. “I’m not gonna say it was like we were physically joined like a mother and child are during pregnancy, but damned if it wasn’t like there was a sudden, unexplainable bond from from him grabbing my hair like that.”

“I’ll admit that when I first met the rest of ya last month, I wouldn’t have expected this kinda tenderness outta _any_ of ya,” Richie told him.

“Well, I’ma pretty private guy outside the band,” he retorted, turning enough to shoot a grin at him. “Hell, I’m not even sure the World knows I’ve a son, and I kinda like it that way.”

“Kinda makes me wonder how ya manage to do it,” the younger brunette admitted. “Hiding from the press so well, I mean.”

“Eh, my basic philosophy’s that whatever ya pay for a concert ticket, I’ll give ya a show worth four or five Times that,” Bobby explained. “But outside that, the rest of the Time’s mine to do with as I please.”

“Not a bad philosophy to have,” he mused.

“If that means living off-grid somewhere too hard for even my band matesta find so I can raise my son–and any Future siblings of his–in Peace, then I’ll move out to the boonies, as Lyric calls them,” the older brunette chuckled. “I’d say I’d move to Alaska, but I hated the cold of Penn–no way am I moving somewhere that gets even colder.”

“Yeah, I recall ya saying ya were from Penn.” Richie nodded as he reached under the cabinet to grab a towel for him when he saw him pull the plug from the drain.

“Penn and Florida evenly, really,” he admitted. “Born in Florida, lived there till I was two or three. From there, we moved back to Penn till I was about nine, then back to _Florida_ till I was about fifteen, followed by yet another move to Penn.”

“Sheesh, sounds crazy,” the younger brunette laughed. “I was born out toward Philly and raised there my entire Life.”

Bobby let out a laugh of his own and he picked his son up outta the tub, quickly wrapping the towel around him before he wound up getting cold. His wife’d been raised much the same way, really only moving within a few miles of where she was born and considered her hometown till she met him. While there was a part of him that kinda Wished he’d that kinda childhood himself, there was another part that was glad he hadn’t. At least he’d learned relatively early in Life that he preferred the heat and humidity of the Sunshine State over pretty much anywhere else, including here in So Cal.

Once Zep was dressed so he’d stay warm till he readjusted to the temperature of the house, the older brunette grinned as he snuggled him against his chest. Said baby shot him a curiously confused look as much as Richie did, both apparently able to tell that today wasn’t just a normal Day. It wasn’t till he all but smothered him with kisses and Wished him a happy birthday that said younger man got it, and he couldn’t help wondering how old the boy was now.

“Today’s literally his first birthday,” he chuckled, turning to head downstairs. “And to think his first six months were spent on a freakin’ tour bus.”

“Seriously–you’re not messing with me, are ya?” the younger brunette laughed as he followed him.

“I’m not, kid,” Bobby said. “He was born on the sixteenth, and we were off the road for a holiday break till the thirtieth–after that, we were out till we killed the tour in early-July.”

“I dunno how ya managed it,” he mused.

“’Cuz Lyric was his Primary caregiver more often than she wasn’t,” the older brunette admitted. “But that’s what we agreed on before we ever hit the road, so it wasn’t like I demanded she come out as a babysitter, or dumped him off on her after we left.”

“Not thatcha can really say ya dumped him off on her, if ya were still doing whatcha could for him between taking care of band duties,” Richie said.

“My point exactly,” he agreed as he settled his son in his high chair.

“So, going back to what we were talking about last Night…” The younger brunette couldn’t help his Curiosity as he settled on a bar stool. “What on Earth didja pick Sapphire as the other Stone for _your_ Pentacle for?”

Chuckling as he got started on breakfast–which he Intended to make a lil more special than normal since it was his son’s first birthday–Bobby was more than happy to explain. As it turned out, the uses for Sapphire–which was a type of Corundum–were pretty much just as numerous as those for Amethyst. It was a gemstone of prophetic Wisdom that boosted psychic abilities and enhanced Dreamwork, and it also aided in subduing nightmares and Fears, in general. This Stone was famous for its association with Love, Dedication, and Fidelity, and that was in addition to enhancing sexual relationships, dispelling Envy, and Healing bruised Emotions after quarrels.

On top of all that, Sapphire was said to fine-tune Intuitive abilities and aid in contacting Spirits, not to mention it stoked the Imagination for setting and working toward goals and dealing with problems. One could use this Stone when seeking Fairness and Justice like they could with Amethyst, and for something called _Defensive magick_ –it also supported Astral work, too.

Like the purple Stone in the older brunette’s Pentacle, Sapphire was associated with the Element Water, which he’d said was his second strongest Element. However, its Astrological Influence came from the Moon, Neptune, Saturn, Venus, the fixed Star Capella, and the Zodiac Constellations of Aquarius, Cancer, Gemini, Leo, Libra, Pisces, Taurus, and Virgo. Hearing those last few things actually jogged a memory for Richie, making him recall how the couple’d mentioned something about a different Zodiac system the Night previous.

“Well, that’s ’cuz the one you’re used to isn’t the only one,” he told him. “And neither’s the Chinese Zodiac, before ya ask.”

“Whaddaya mean, though?” the younger brunette asked.

“Well, there’s one from the Native Americans,” Bobby answered. “If we went by that one, I’d be a Snake and Lyric’d be a Raven, ’cuz those’re the ones that occur at the same Time of Year as Scorpio and Libra, respectively.”

“Kinda makes me wonder what that’d make _me,_ then,” he chuckled.

“When’s your birthday again?” the older brunette asked.

“February third,” Richie answered.

“Then you’d be an Otter,” he laughed. “Better than a Goose, if ya ask me.”

The younger brunette couldn’t help cracking up. “Seriously–a freakin’ Otter?”

“Hey, don’t ask me–I didn’t come up with this!” Bobby told him. “I just learned about it from Lyric!”

“All right–so, if us adults’re a Raven, Snake, and Otter, what does that make Zep?” he asked once he’d Calmed down again.

“He’d be an Owl, of all things,” the older brunette chuckled.

“Seems like there’s a lotta Birds in the Native American Zodiac,” Richie mused.

“Oh, there’s other Animals that don’t have wings and Feathers,” he told him. “Actually, I think the Falcon’s the only other Bird that got used–then we get into other furry Critters, and even scaly ones.”

By the Time Bobby’d gotten breakfast done and his wife’d finally joined them with a sleepy look in her eyes, the younger brunette couldn’t resist asking about that thirteen-sign Zodiac. It turned out that technically, there were thirteen months in a Year–and therefore thirteen Moon cycles, Zodiac signs, etc. Depending on when one’s birthday fell, they might be the same sign as what they’d grown up thinking they were, or they might actually be the one that came before that.

Once she’d gotten a chanceta grab coffee and Wish her son a happy first birthday, Lyric was the one to explain that part since she’d memorized it better. The thirteen-sign Zodiac used the actual dates of when a certain Constellation was a backdrop to the Sun, not dates assigned by man, as it were. That meant Virgo was the longest-running Zodiac sign at forty-five Days, from September sixteenth to October thirtieth. Scorpio–whose name was actually _Scorpius_ –was actually the shortest-running Zodiac sign at just seven Days, from November twenty-third to November twenty-ninth.

The older brunette wouldn’t give away exactly when his birthday was yet–all he’d say was that it was in early-November–but going by that thirteen-sign system, he was one of those whose Zodiac sign Changed. His wife was another that happened to, so Richie wasn’t alone in being a completely different sign than what he’d thought he was all his Life.

“So, what’s this thirteenth sign supposed to be?” he asked.

“Ophiuchus,” the young woman answered. “It runs from November thirtieth to December seventeenth.”

“Can’t say I’ve ever heard of it,” Richie admitted.

“’Cuz most folks haven’t,” she chuckled. “Having originally been identified by Ptolemy, it doesn’t feature in either the Tropical _or_ Sidereal Zodiacs that’re used by Astrologers now. Ophiuchus is the only sign that doesn’t have an opposite sign–hence there’s no polarity to experience.”

“Makes sense, if it’s the odd one out,” the younger brunette mused.

“Ophiuchus is the only Zodiac sign that depicts a real man, much like Virgo’s depicted by a real woman,” Lyric said. “Many people’re envious of the Ophiuchan as he/she progresses well throughout Life–an Ophiuchus is a seeker of Wisdom and Knowledge.”

“Damn, ya sure _you’re_ not that, Rob?” he laughed.

“Pretty sure I’m not,” Bobby chuckled. “I think I’ve more Scorpio traits than anything with a few from Libra thrown in for flavor.”

“I’ve to agree, ’cuz an Ophiuchan’s a flamboyant dressing sense, favoring bright Colors and wearing of pleated dresses–which _you_ most certainly do _not,_ dresses or otherwise.” The young woman smirked. “The personality traits of Ophiuchus’re between Scorpio and Sagittarius. Ophiuchus persons’re extremely curious, open to Change, passionate, and very jealous, too–other Ophiuchus personality traits include explosive temper, good humor, Secretive, egotistical, a thirst for Knowledge, and being sexually magnetic.”

Richie couldn’t help wondering what the personalities of his own Zodiac sign–both the one he’d _thought_ he was and the one he _actually_ was–were. Laughing, she said she’d pull out some notes she’d written and make a copy of them after breakfast, ’cuz she wasn’t letting him get his hands on where she kept them hidden. After all, a Witch’s Grimoire was their personal Journal, and she’d things written in there she didn’t even want her husband knowing about. If she wasn’t gonna Enlighten her own husband to those things, she damn sure wasn’t Enlightening anyone else, no matter how well she knew them.

The younger brunette found that more than fair enough, considering she didn’t have to make a copy of such notes for him at all. He knew full well that–instead of hand-copying her own handwritten notes–she could very well be telling him to go research it on his own like she’d obviously had to do. Lyric wagged a finger at him, which made her husband snicker as he passed out plates, a reprimanding look on her face.

Even Bobby knew that Witches–especially Air Witches like her–didn’t operate that way for one simple reason. They believed that _all_ Knowledge was worth sharing, but like his wife, many chose _who_ they shared that Knowledge with very selectively. After all, they didn’t wanna be telling something to someone who was gonna use it for ill Intent, like which garden-variety plants’d kill and which ones wouldn’t. One never knew who’d take Knowledge like that and use it to become a serial killer, or otherwise use it to torment someone else.

Richie chuckled as he admitted that he could often be the same way sometimes, just with a different subject entirely. He was often approached by other musicians, all wanting to know his Secretsta being such a killer guitarist in particular. While he was willing to share a few tips and tricks here and there, he wouldn’t bare all to just anyone, especially if they struck him as not being very serious about learning how to play better. After all, he’d put a metric fuck-ton of work into being able to play even half as well as he could–while he’d guitar lessons in the Beginning, he’d mostly taught himself. He wasn’t giving away all those Years of hard work and practiceta someone who wasn’t gonna take playing as seriously as he did, himself.

Sharing a look with his wife, the older brunette could already tell they were thinking the same thing–this kid was definitely a perfect fit for Poison, and he’d prolly make a perfect secondary partner for her in a Romantic sense.


	6. Six

_January, 1992_

By the Time Poison headed into the studio for more than just a _get-to-know-each-other_ jam session, Bobby could already see the difference. Not only was his wife a bit moodier than was normal for being pregnant, but so was the younger brunette they’d taken in. If the poor guy didn’t seem quiet and sullen–more so than was even _his_ norm–he seemed to almost always be fighting the urge to snap at them. Well, that was mostly applied to his brunette counterpart, ’cuz even looking like he’d wanted to snap at the young woman’d damn near gotten him beaned with a spatula once already.

It was for that reason that when they got home from their third Day in the studio as a band, the older brunette decided to pull his wife aside. Even though he hadn’t actually asked her, he already knew that just turning her looseta go after Richie wouldn’t work. She might be entirely willing to pounce, but he knew there’d be a part of her that’d still be uncertain about doing such a thing.

As if that wasn’t enough, he could pretty much already tell that the younger brunette wouldn’t exactly be receptive to her advances, were he to just turn Lyric loose. No doubt he’d try to deny her what they both wanted, and most likely on the grounds that he thought she was trying to cheat on her husband. If he were to upset her by doing that, even though he’d obviously already know, that wouldn’t do anything but cause a big fight between all three of them. Besides, he knew his wife well–she was the type that she’d want all three of them to sit down and have a conversation about it together. There wasn’t anything beyond Courage, Honesty, Respect, and Loyalty that she was bigger on than keeping _all_ Communication open.

Following their lil chat–which’d made the young woman’s eyes positively Light up–Bobby finally headed outta the master suite. He paused to check on Zep, whom he was pleased to see was knocked out in his crib for the Night, which meant he most likely wouldn’t wake up and interrupt their conversation. Assured that the baby was well and thoroughly asleep, he headed around the galley to where the shorter brunette’s door was still open, which meant he hadn’t turned in for the Night.

“What’s up?” Richie asked, glancing up when he heard a knock on his open door.

“Just come with me for a few minutes,” the older brunette answered. The slight smile on his face told him that–serious though his words and tone were–he wasn’t in any kinda trouble.

 _“Ummm…”_ He wasn’t too sure what to think when his band mate–and technically landlord–led him into the master suite, which he’d essentially considered this house’s _West Wing_.

“Relax, kid–you’re not in any kinda trouble,” Bobby chuckled, crouching down in front of the counter that not only housed a mini sink, but hid a mini _fridge_.

“He’s definitely right about that,” his wife agreed from where she was curled up near the headboard of their bed. “And for the Love of the Gods, don’t be shy about making yourself comfortable.”

The older brunette couldn’t help a laugh at how his eyes widened as he joined her, the poor guy still a bit reluctant, even as he crawled onto the foot of their bed.

“Since there’s no real easy way to start off–remember what I said about not caring, if ya were looking the Day after we metcha?” he asked, passing out the Pepsis he’d grabbed for them.

“Yeah, I remember that,” Richie answered, nodding as he cracked his can open. “Ya saidja didn’t care, ’cuz it was only if I tried anything behind your back that’d cause problems.”

“Now, think about what else I said that Morn before Bret and Rikki got there,” the older brunette said.

“Thatcha weren’t sure sharing Lyric with another guy was for you, but if ya ever decided to, it was none of their business,” he recalled.

“Bingo.” Bobby couldn’t help a chuckle as a took a sip from his own can. “That being said, don’t think I haven’t noticed how tense things’ve been lately, and not just ’cuz ya were getting settled in a new home, either.”

The younger brunette couldn’t help his face turning pink, which made the couple laugh.

“Kid, if ya think things weren’t _just_ as tense between Lyric and I right after we first met, you’re insane,” he said after Calming again. “’Cuz lemme tell ya, my dick wasn’t the only hard thing about that situation–not with her crawling into my bunk Night after Night ’cuz she was cold, but not letting me do anything but cuddle her to get warm.”

“That included practically forcing him to cup my tit since it helps me sleep,” the young woman snickered.

Richie’s eyes widened at those admissions, if only ’cuz he didn’t know much about how they’d met–or even them personally. But she was quick to put that to rest by explaining those thingsta him, which certainly answered a few questions he hadn’t dared to ask. However, he was surprised again when the older brunette reached over to gently rub his wife’s back when she seemed to withdraw from them a bit, if only ’cuz of how she straightened her spine and seemed to feed off that simple touch.

Lyric quickly brought him up to speed about her hesitancy toward men–which was the first Time she’d ever gone into detail about when she was raped with even her husband. It certainly explained why she’d tense up at first when they’d use the missionary position during sex, which seemed to be her least favorite. No doubt being on her back like that reminded her of that Day, and her relaxing was brought on by remembering that it _wasn’t_ her past rapist doing those thingsta her now. Her relaxing beneath him was a sign of her remembering she was with her husband, the man who loved and would do anything for her–and prolly just as soon off himself as Intentionally hurt her like that.

The younger brunette couldn’t help a slight wince, even as he reached out to gently squeeze her knee since he didn’t dare scoot any closer. He couldn’t explain that sudden urge, nor why he’d the feeling that getting any closer to her in a physical sense right now’d just make her feel caged. What he _did_ know was that part of him wanted to go back in Time by six Years and beat the ever-living fuck outta the guy who’d raped her.

Judging by the look on his face and the soft growl he let out as he wrapped his arms around her, Bobby felt much the same way. The difference was that he’d already known she was a former rape victim for about a Year now–he just hadn’t known any details about it. But the Enlightenment shining in his Chocolate eyes said he now had a better Understanding of just how much Trust and Faith his wife held in him. Not only that, but it clearly said that he understood how hard it’d been for her to place those things and so much more in him, why she constantly said that as long as he was trying, she was staying–and the same applied to herself.

“That being said, I take certain signs of things when they come deadly seriously,” she said.

“Like what?” Richie asked, his hand still resting on her knee.

“Well, remember how ya felt that spark when we first shook hands the Day we met?” the young woman countered.

“Kinda like the one I swear I’m feeling right now,” he chuckled, nodding.

“The only other person I’ve had that happen with–it’s Rob,” Lyric told him.

The younger brunette’s eyes widened in surprise once again.

“She’s not kidding, either,” Bobby said. “I’ve seen her have physical contact with even Howie and the crew–none of them ever said anything about a spark between them, and neither has she.”

“That’s ’cuz there _was_ no spark to say anything about,” she chuckled.

“Considering that she and I are married–well, handfasted actually, but that’s a different story–that can only mean one thing,” the older brunette continued. “The two of ya were _meant_ to meet and connect on _some_ level at one point or another as much as she and I were.”

“Well, fuck.” Richie held his can steady with his knees, freeing up his other hand to drag through his hair.

“Now we get to the reason why all three of us’re sitting down together,” he told him. “There’s a couple ways I coulda done this, but I chose this way for a reason.”

The younger brunette cocked a brow at him, not too sure what he was getting at.

“I coulda turned Lyric looseta pounce on ya, so to speak,” Bobby said with a smirk. “But from what I can tell–especially after that conversation we had the Day after we met–you’d have done nothing but upset her by rebuffing even the slightest advance.”

“Well, yeah–she’s a married woman, and if there’s one thing Mama raised me _not_ to do, it was mess around with a taken woman,” he retorted sensibly.

The older brunette’s smirk turned into a bit of a grin as he said that he’d figured that’d be the case, ’cuz he’d been raised much the same way, himself. On top of that, he knew that Lyric preferred keeping Communication open and prolly woulda insisted on having this chat instead, even if he _hadn’t_ brought it up first. She might be violent and shady at Times, but she was fair and just above all else–that was just how Witches were, but some were more so than others.

“Personally, I don’t care if she goes after what she wants,” he told him. “I’m more concerned with whether she’s happy or not. If there’s something _you_ can give her that _I can’t_ –well, whether I like it or not, I’d rather share her and see her happy than keep her to myself and see her miserable.”

Richie’s jaw dropped when he admitted that.

“Trust me, coming to such a decision isn’t easy for me–but there’s one thing I keep in mind, even now,” he said.

“And what’s that?” the younger brunette asked.

“That–in being so fair and just–Lyric’s not gonna ask anything of me that she’s unwilling to give or do, herself,” Bobby answered.

The young woman in question nodded, finally reaching down to cover the hand still resting on her knee with her own.

“If she expects _me_ to even entertain the notion of sharing her, she’s gonna do the same toward me,” the older brunette explained. “And if she _weren’t_ willing to share me with another woman, she wouldn’t ask me to share her with another man.”

“To quote one of their own song lyrics, _It’s a game of Love and Hate_ – _to lose it all’s a chance we take,”_ Lyric said. “That is, he’s taking a chance with whether I’d wanna leave him indefinitely or not. But the thing about me–I’m flighty enough that I’d rather have two guys fill various proverbial holes than just settle for one guy and the few holes he can fill on his own.”

“And that’s supposed to mean _what,_ exactly?” he asked.

“Well, I’ve always been more attracted to blue eyes than any other eye Color,” the young woman revealed, making the blue eyes she was staring at widen. “Falling for Rob’s Chocolate eyes is definitely a rarity for me, and even if I hadn’t–well, it’s not like he can Change his eye Color just ’cuz of my personal preferences.”

“Well, I _could_ –but I see no point in trying to wear contacts when I don’t need them for my vision to be any better,” Bobby chuckled.

She couldn’t help a laugh as she admitted that–in knowing he was supposed to have eyes as Dark as her own–he wouldn’t look right with blue eyesta her. It’d weird her out too much to try looking him in the eye, if he tried wearing contactsta Change their Color, which’d make her _not_ wanna look him in the eye. That’d be a problem when it came to Communicating, ’cuz she was big on making eye contact when talking to someone since the eyes could often say a lot more than their mouth ever would.

Lyric also said that there were other differences between the two of them that reeled her in like a Fish caught hook, line, and sinker. She leaned over to dig through the top drawer of her nightstand–which put her pregnancy on a beautiful display for both of them–before straightening again. Keeping what she’d pulled out face-down where neither could see it for the moment, she held it out to him and told him to just take a look.

Richie cocked a brow as he took what she held out, which he almost instantly realized was a photo as soon as it touched his fingertips. Flipping it over so that the older brunette still couldn’t see, his eyes almost popped outta his skull as he started in surprise. Looking up at him wasn’t his band mate’s face, but one’d almost think it _was_ till they paid better attention and started noticing the fine details. All it took for him to figure out what she was trying to tell him was that her reason for being attracted to her husband wasn’t just for his personality–but not quite for his looks in the way most’d think at first.

“That man–he was my pappaw,” the young woman revealed, her husband looking confused. “Before ya ask, _pappaw’s_ the hillbilly word for _grampa.”_

“I’m assuming there’s a female equivalent, then,” he mused.

 _“Mammaw,”_ Lyric told him, nodding.

“Well, I can certainly see why you’re so attracted to Rob now, if you’re going by looks, alone,” the younger brunette finally said. He didn’t bother turning the picture around till she nodded, Silently telling him that he could.

“Fuck me, nekkid and runnin’,” Bobby breathed, his own eyes widening. “I’d almost swear I’m looking in a mirror.”

“It’s not just your looks that attracted me, though,” she chuckled. “You’re so much like him in personality, it ain’t even funny, love.”

“Do I even wanna know how?” the older brunette asked, cocking a brow at her.

“He was prolly just as wild and crazy as you in his younger Years, but’d that quiet, Mysterious Air about him by the Time he passed two Years ago,” Lyric answered. “I still ain’t too sure if that was ’cuz of serving in WWII, or if that was ’cuz that was just his Natural personality.”

“Prolly a lil of both,” he chuckled. “Tendsta happen, especially with those that were already inclined to that kinda personality to Begin with.”

“Well, Richie’s sorta the same, yet the opposite, from what I’ve been able to tell,” the young woman explained. “I don’t doubt that he’s his wild and crazy side when he wantsta, but over all, he’s more of the quiet, Mysterious type to me.”

“Get me drunk enough, and I go absolutely bat-shit buck-wild,” Richie laughed. “But I don’t tend to drink that often, just ’cuz I can’t seem to keep myself on a leash, so I wind up paying for it royally the next Morn.”

“I know that feeling all too well, kid,” his band mate laughed.

“Point being, after everything I’ve been through and what with being raised a Pagan _by_ a Pagan–well, when I get a sign, I tend to follow where it’s pointing to,” she said. “Feeling that spark and being attracted to your personality as much as your eyes was my sign that I was meant to have ya in my Life.”

The younger brunette nodded as he handed her grampa’s picture back to her, not even trying to deny that he’d felt the same way ever since they met. He reiterated that he hadn’t acted on it, though, ’cuz like he’d said before, he’d been raised not to even look at a woman he knew was spoken for. It was one of those be grateful for what he already had instead of pining for what he didn’t kinda thingsta him.

Lyric totally understood where he was coming from, but at the same Time, she made no bones about thinking he was being silly by thinking that about her. As her own husband had already said, sharing wasn’t necessarily for everyone when it came to their Romantic relationships, but sometimes it was the better scenario. In fighting her own attraction to him, she’d done nothing but make herself–and therefore, at Times, said husband–absolutely miserable for the last three weeks or so. It wasn’t ’cuz she’d even meant to–it was ’cuz she’d been trying not to push his personal boundaries with sharing her when he hadn’t really thought about it.

“Like I said before, I’d rather share her and see her happy than keep her to myself and see her miserable,” Bobby said. “But there’s two rules I’m laying down on such a thing, shouldja decide to go for it.”

“I’m almost scared to ask,” he admitted, his chuckle sounding a hair nervous.

“One, don’t fuckin’ expect me to join in,” the older brunette told them with a snicker. “If I won’t fuck as part of an orgy backstage with my band mates going at it with their own partners on all sides of me, ain’t no way I’m joining my wife and her other partner, either.”

“Hey, fair enough,” Richie laughed. “Not too sure I’d be all that comfortable with another guy joining for a threesome, myself.”

“And two–don’t be fuckin’ in _our_ bed,” he said. “Whatcha do with her in your own bed’s your own business–what she and I do here in ours is _our_ business. I don’t want another man fuckin’ in the bed I’ve to sleep in, whether he’s fuckin’ my wife or some hooker off a street corner.”

“Again, fair enough,” the younger brunette agreed. “’Cuz yeah, no–that’s just fuckin’ gross. I’d kill ya, if the two of ya started fuckin’ in the bed that’s now mine, even though I like both of ya.”

“Beyond that, _all_ avenues of Communication’re to remain open,” Lyric told him. “Our rule of thumb’s that it’s fine to take your Time with saying something, or to simply not say anything at all, depending on the situation. But if and when ya open your mouth, nothing but the Truth’d better come outta it, or we’re gonna have problems.”

“We’re both insanely big on Courage, Honesty, Respect, and Loyalty,” Bobby explained. “If ya don’t wanna talk about something right away, we’re not gonna push ya–if ya do, great. But don’t lie to us–the only exception being something like throwing a surprise party for our birthdays–or you’re gonna piss us off in ways ya can’t even _Begin_ to imagine.”

“Me more so than him, ’cuz Air Witches’re notorious for turning our backs on someone and cutting ’em outta our Lives without a second Thought once our Trust’s broken,” the young woman said. “Once it’s gone, it’s gone–we usually move on and don’t bother looking back. And even when we _say_ we’ll give somebody a second chance–not that I ever do anymore–it’s rare that we can _actually_ do it.”

“Well, even though I’ll admit I haven’t the slightest clue what I’m getting myself into, I’ve my own rule, if we’re even gonna try this,” Richie told them.

Both cocked their brows at him curiously.

“Ya say neither of ya want a threesome–I’m assuming that means Rob’s absolutely no desire to know the fine details of anything _we_ do together any more than I wanna know them about what the two of ya do together,” he said.

“Well, yeah,” Bobby laughed. “’Cuz damn it, if I wanted to know, I wouldn’t be putting the kibosh on a threesome right outta the gate.”

“Adding to that a lil bit, then–don’t be making any comparisons about us to me,” the younger brunette chuckled. “I don’t wanna know a damn thing about whether our dicks’re the same size, if I hit a certain spot the same way he does, etc.”

“Only comparisons I’d prolly be apt to make’d be a remark about whether ya both liked having your ears nibbled or something,” she giggled, a bit of a devious glint in her eyes.

Richie couldn’t help but laugh as he said he didn’t even wanna know _that_ about the older brunette, ’cuz if he _did,_ he’d have tried to find out on his own already. But not only was he not gay, himself–not that he’d any problems with guys who _were_ –it was pretty obviousta him that his band mate wasn’t, either. If he was, then he was better at hiding it than any guy he’d ever met, ’cuz he could usually tell who fell into that particular category and who didn’t.

Said older brunette let out a laugh of his own as he assured him that he most certainly _wasn’t_ gay, being trapped on a bus with upwards of a dozen other guys for months on End notwithstanding. If his own dick didn’t really interest him most of the Time, there wasn’t a damn thing about another guy’s that was gonna, either. That being said, he’d like to think it wouldn’t have taken him twenty-eight Yearsta figure out if he was gay or not.

Looking the younger brunette in the eye, Bobby told him that he didn’t care if he and his wife headed off for a Night of privacy. All the bedrooms were soundproof when he moved in, and he made damn sure of it long before he’d ever met his wife. He just wasn’t in the mood for any action tonight since he hadn’t slept well the Night previous, which was starting to give him a headache. But before he turned them loose, he warned him that–when it came to her Emotions–he’d better not hurt her unless he didn’t want his parents knowing where his grave was. He was bound to hurt her physically till he learned certain limitations she had, mostly due to her rheumatoid arthritis, which could be forgiven fairly easily.

Nodding his assent, he turned that laser-intense blue gaze on the woman in question, who squirmed almost uncomfortably. Seeing Lyric’s nostrils flare in a way he hadn’t even seen them do with her husband, but knew they prolly _did,_ wasn’t his only clue that she was willing. Feeling her hand clamp down on his own where they still rested on her knee was another hint, as was the sudden musky aroma he caught. Given that he wasn’t looking to break any rules laid down by any of them, he finally crawled off the foot of their bed, gently helping her off it so he could lead her back to his own room.

Tonight was about to get interesting for Richie–far more so than he’d have thought when he first woke that Morn–but he couldn’t say it was an altogether bad thing.


	7. Seven

Knocking on a certain door the next Morn, Bobby hoped he wouldn’t have to open it before it was answered by either the younger brunette or his wife. He’d meant what he’d said about having no desire to join their shenanigans, now that he’d turned Lyric looseta go after his band mate, as well as knowing the details of what they did together. That also applied to having to enter wherever they made their private quarters at any given Time and finding them in bed together, nekkid as the Days they were born.

Richie opened one of the Mahogany panels that sealed his room off from the rest of the house just enough to peep out, gladly opening it further when he saw the older brunette. Despite having been up pretty late–the last Time he remembered looking at the clock, it was around three in the Morn–he was already conscious, showered, and dressed for the Day. He was still working on the _awake_ part, but the difference between now and this Time just the Day before was already noticeable. While he looked thoroughly exhausted, the glitter to his eyes and the goofy smile on his face said that it was a pleasant exhaustion he was enjoying. His only brunette band mate couldn’t help a chuckle as he shook his head, knowing that feeling all too well, himself.

“I’m not even gonna ask, kid,” he said, careful to keep his volume down.

“Well, I should hope not, considering what we all agreed on last Night,” the younger brunette chuckled, the pink tinge to his face deepening a bit.

“I just came to make sure ya were up and to bring the baby monitor in here for her,” Bobby told him. “I doubted she’d wanna get up yet, ’cuz she almost never gets up this early, if she doesn’t have to.”

“Yeah, I don’t even think she felt me get up when my alarm went off,” he agreed as he let him in.

_“Buongiorno, tesoro,”_ the older brunette murmured, now kneeling next to the bed where his wife could see him once she cracked her eyes open.

_“Mmmph,”_ Lyric grunted, glaring at him.

“Baby monitor’s gonna be on the nightstand,” he told her. “Go on back to sleep, ’cuz Richie and I gotta get to the studio before the idiots barge in again.”

“They see meh nekkid again, and I’ma bean ’em,” the young woman slurred sleepily.

“That’s why we’re leaving once we get coffee,” Bobby chuckled, leaning down to kiss her forehead.

“Den git, ’fore dat plan Changes,” she grumbled.

The older brunette couldn’t help a soft laugh as he gave her a real kiss this Time, then ducked down so he could plug in the baby monitor in question. As he was getting it settled on the nightstand next to her, careful to make sure it was loud enough for her to hear without startling her _too_ badly, if Zep started crying, Richie grabbed his essentials from the accent table between his closet and bathroom doors. He’d a question he wanted to ask the other man once they were alone, but he was debating whether he should or not.

Down in the kitchen, Bobby threw together a couple to-go mugs for them while he was grabbing them a small breakfast they could eat on the road. Seeing his chance, he took a deep breath to shore up his Courage, knowing he might very well be about to break one of their mutual rules. If not for being so worried, he wouldn’t bother, but since he _was_ worried–well, he couldn’t bring himself to _not_ ask.

“Hey, Rob.”

_“Mmm?”_ the older brunette hummed, having been taking the first sip of his coffee.

“If this breaks one of the rules we laid down last Night, just say so–but I’ve a question for ya,” Richie said. “And I’m only asking ’cuz I’ve never had this kinda thing happen before, so it’s kinda worrying me.”

“Then go ahead and shoot,” he told him. “Worst thing I’ma do’s refuseta answer, or tell ya I _don’t have_ the answer.”

“Has it ever felt like–I dunno, like Lyric was holding on for dear Life, but trying to launch ya across the room with the way she arched and bucked as she came?” the younger brunette asked, his face turning deep red. “I mean, when ya were actually going at it, not when ya were using some other technique to get her off.”

_“Ahhhh,_ she hitcha with _Sex magick_ last Night,” Bobby chuckled.

“She, _what?”_ He hadn’t felt quite this confused in a while as they headed out to the garage, given that they now carpooled to the studio.

“Basically, think of it like a _magickal_ orgasm at the same Time as the _physical_ one,” the older brunette explained. “She told me that with _Sex magick,_ a person can quite literally use their orgasm to cast a spell.”

“Okay, now that’s a lil freaky,” Richie admitted as they settled in his band mate’s car.

“The thing about when _Lyric_ does it–it’s not Intentional,” he told him. “She’s usually either pretty desperate, or a lil _too_ caught up in the Romantic goings-on, and it just _happens.”_

“Damn, really?” the younger brunette asked.

“First Time she ever got _me_ with it, she didn’t mean to,” Bobby answered, nodding. “Left me pretty dazed, so it was a good thing that I’d a Night off the Night after that since we were still on the _Flesh and Blood_ tour.”

“Yeah, I’m definitely feeling a lil more dazed than normal for the aftermath of getting laid,” he chuckled.

“Well, Lyric actually blacked out from the intensity,” the older brunette laughed. “Scared me to fuckin’ Death, ’cuz I thought I’d killed her. Took her three Daysta _really_ get her shit together after she woke up the next Morn, and she was pretty much running on autopilot during the shows till she did.”

“Jesus Christ,” Richie said with a laugh of his own.

“But yeah, physically-speaking, it feels like she’s clinging and trying to buck ya off at the same Time.” He couldn’t help a chuckle as he backed outta the driveway. “Mentally and Emotionally–well, I’d say it’s akin to donating blood straight from the heart, not a vein in my arm or something.”

The younger brunette nodded, agreeing that it’d almost felt like she’d stuck a straw straight into his Soul before they got off, then blasted what she’d slowly sucked out back into him all at once. And much like she’d done the first Time she hit Bobby with this _Sex magick_ stuff, she’d passed out almost immediately. If it weren’t for the fact that she was still breathing and her pulse’d slowly settled into a normal, resting kinda pace, he’d have prolly hauled ass into the master suite to wake the poor guy up.

As he aimed his car for the studio they were using–which wasn’t far from where _Open Up’d_ been recorded–he admitted that he didn’t blame him for being worried. This was one Time where he’d encourage the breaking of their rule when it came to details about his sex Life with his wife, just so he’d have an answer and not worry, if and when it happened again. But he was also quick to warn him that this was the only Time he was letting him get away with such a thing unless something similar happened, or he otherwise had a damn good reason for asking. If it pertained to anyone’s Health–like, should he suspect Lyric might be going into labor while they were going at it or something–he’d rather he ask, but not for just shits and giggles.

Richie nodded as he agreed wholeheartedly, saying that he wasn’t the kinda guy to deny an answer to a question based on such a solid foundation, himself. Only if he didn’t have the answer to start with would he deny giving it, and that was simply ’cuz it was pretty hard to give something one didn’t have. Still, he couldn’t help feeling like he needed to apologize since he’d technically crossed a line they’d all agreed not to cross.

Laughing as he parked his car outside the studio, Bobby reiterated that this was one Time he’d let him get away with it. He didn’t need to apologize since he’d been genuinely concerned and didn’t know who else besides himself to ask about it. Sure, it’d put him between a rock and a hard place, but there was no need to drive himself crazy over it this Time. Gently patting his shoulder as he made to open his door, though, he said it was Time to table this particular conversation, like it or not. Neither of them wanted the blonde half of their band overhearing anything, and this wasn’t the kinda thing that belonged in the studio, anywhore.

“Well, _day-um!”_ Bret laughed as they walked in a few minutes later. “Looks like _someone’d_ a good Night last Night!”

The older brunette pretended not to notice, even as the poor guy’s face turned Beet-red again.

“Hey, I’m glad to see the goofy smile on your face, personally,” their drummer told him. “I thoughtcha were gonna explode like a nuclear power plant soon, if ya didn’t get laid.”

“Kinda _felt_ like it, that’s for sure,” Richie agreed, even though he grumbled as he took his guitar outta its case.

“So, who was the lucky girl–or didja even know her?” the vocalist asked.

“Just a random one-Night stand,” he answered, glad his hair was in his face as he plugged his cable in since the blocked the sidelong glance he cast Bobby outta the corner of his eye. “But damned if I didn’t need it.”

Bobby simply ignored his words, even though he was obviously trying not to say too much so he could respect their boundaries.

“She musta been damn good, to put _this_ kinda look on your face,” he told him, clearly digging for more.

“Not the _kiss-and-tell_ type, so you’re not getting anything more outta me,” Richie chuckled. That much _was_ true about him, and it played into the private dynamic nicely.

“Ah, you’re no more fun than Bobby is!” Bret laughed. “The man’s wilder than a rabid Fox, yet he won’t tell shit!”

“’Cuz to steal a line from Mick Mars, I’m just as sick as the rest of ya–I just prefer to do my sickness in private,” he retorted as he plugged in his bass.

“To be honest, I’ve always thoughtcha were _sicker_ than the rest of us in that respect,” Rikki chuckled. “I just don’t ask, ’cuz I’m pretty sure that even if ya _would_ tell, I _don’t_ wanna know.”

“Let’s just say that Lyric and I don’t just use a Feather–we use the whole damn Chicken, and leave it at that,” the older brunette said with a devious grin.

Even Richie couldn’t help cracking up at that, even though it told him _waaaay_ more than he wanted or needed to know about the couple’s sex Life. There was no need to ask him if that meant they were kinky or not, and if so, how far they’d go before they finally hit a limit between what was all in good fun and what was truly downright sick. All that mattered was that he clearly enjoyed whatever it was their now-shared woman did to him, she enjoyed whatever _he_ did to _her,_ and if either of them weren’t enjoying it, they made no bones about it before someone crossed a line they shouldn’t.

Shoving those Thoughts into the back of his mind, the younger brunette started picking out a tune he’d been writing long before he met these guys while he was waiting. He hadn’t been too sure what, if anything he was gonna do with it–for all he knew, it mighta never gotten tracked and released. It was an incredibly personal song he’d started writing shortly after his last breakup about a Year ago, after all.

All three of his band mates paused in what they’d been doing for a moment, but it was Bobby who was suddenly hit with a spark of Inspiration. He didn’t even think about what he did before he started playing a fluid, but kinda bouncy bass riff alongside him, which made him glance up. Smirking, he muted his strings at the same Time the younger brunette did and told him to take it from the top. His idea might not actually get used, but he wanted to run through it before having it bounce around his head drove him nuts. That was just one of the pricesta be paid as a Creative Soul, though, something his brunette band mate understood all too well as he nodded and started again.

By the End of that particular Day, they’d written the entirety of that song, which he’d said he was calling _Fire and Ice_ unless one of the others’d something better. Since none of them did, they decided to stick with that as a shortened version of its actual title, not to mention work on vocals the next Day. After all, it was getting decently late now, and the poor guy was having a hard Time keeping his eyes open since he hadn’t gotten much sleep for obvious reasons.

The pair of brunettes bid their blonde band mates a good Night once they were finally packed up and ready to leave around seven. Leaving then was a bit on the late side, but they’d been so caught up in working on that particular song that Time’d gotten away from them a bit. Bobby knew he might have hell to pay when they finally got home, if only from Zep demanding cuddles almost to the point of refusing to sleep in his crib. As long as his wife didn’t try to bean him with a skillet or something, he knew he’d be fine, and so would the younger brunette. In fact, she might wanna have another Night with Richie–even if it was just for cuddles, as tired as the poor guy was–which’d play into that scenario well. They’d just have to wait and see when they got home, both glad that they’d headed out late enough to avoid Rush Hour traffic.


	8. Eight

_May, 1992_

A couple Days after what Lyric called the Sabbat of _Beltane_ –which he knew as May Day–Richie was enjoying having a Night to himself. He was able to sprawl out across his King-size bed however he wanted, even if that meant his head was hanging off one side, his feet hanging off the other. That wasn’t to say that he _didn’t_ enjoy the Nights he got his shared girlfriend to himself, ’cuz he damn well _did_ enjoy them. It was just that–much like the young woman in question–he enjoyed his alone Time, and prolly a lot more than any of his band mates besides Bobby.

Therefore, he wasn’t expecting to feel something shaking him awake in the middle of the Night, his sleepy brain thinking it was an earthquake at first. Coming to the realization that there was a hand gripping his shoulder tightly as he was shaken quickly nixed that idea, though, and he reached over to turn on his lamp with a somewhat irritated groan.

“What’s up, man?” he grumbled, realizing it was the older brunette once he’d rubbed at least part of the sleep outta his eyes.

“Keep an ear out for Zep once the Sun starts rising,” Bobby told him. “Lyric’s going into labor, so I gotta get her to the hospital.”

“You’re sure?” the younger brunette asked, startled a lil more awake.

“Pretty sure her water broke before she could even get up to go to the bathroom,” he answered, nodding.

_“Roooob_ –hurry it up before I rip your nuts off and staple ’em to the side of your head!” they heard from the master suite, her voice obviously drenched in pain.

“Go–I got the lil man once he wakes up,” Richie told him. “’Cuz I’m not guaranteeing I’ll get back to sleep before his naptime, now that I’m conscious.”

“At least try since you’ll need all the sleep ya can get,” the older brunette chuckled.

“Oh, I’ma try–I’m just saying it might not happen,” he retorted with a chuckle of his own.

“Just don’t expect more than a phone call outta me for a while,” Bobby said as he rose. “From what the social worker said, it took Mishy around nine hours between going into active labor and actually delivering for Zep to be born.”

Nodding as he settled back down once the baby monitor was plugged in on his nightstand, the younger brunette said he’d call Bret and Rikki once the Sun was up. His clock said it was only one in the Morn right now, and they both knew that if either of them called the blondes right now, they’d prolly get hung up on before they could tell them what was going on. They didn’t have the Time or Patienceta be dealing with that, so it was better to just wait till after Sunrise at the earliest to let them know they weren’t coming into the studio today.

After the older brunette’d left to take their girl to the hospital, Richie settled back down to at least attempt getting some more sleep. Considering it was only the wee hours of the Morn, he knew he wouldn’t be any good by the Time the baby across the gallery woke, if he couldn’t get back to sleep. From the soft noises coming through the baby monitor’s speaker, though, said baby wouldn’t be up for a good while yet. That gave him plenty of Time to try getting some more sleep before he’d to think about even getting up for a potty break. Luckily for him, getting back to sleep wasn’t all that hard and didn’t take long since he hadn’t actually gotten up and his bed was still nice and toasty.

* * *

It was just after eight that Morn when Richie heard a key in the front door, followed by the alarm system being deactivated, from the kitchen. He hadn’t gotten a chanceta call the blonde half of his band to let them know what was going on, ’cuz almost as soon as he’d woken up again around six-thirty, lil Zep was up and needed his Morn care. That’d started with a bath since he’d ’sploded his diaper again, and by the Time he’d gotten him cleaned up, dried off, and dressed, it was Time to get to work on breakfast.

Had Bobby not mentioned before that the others’d keysta his house and were known for letting themselves in sometimes, he’d have been worried about hearing two sets of boots tromping through the foyer. After all, he doubted his shared girlfriend woulda been wearing bootsta the hospital, if she was in labor, and besides, he’d expect the older brunette to come back alone this soon after taking her in. Course, that was assuming he came back home at all before that afternoon, or even the next Day since he knew labor and delivery took a while. Sometimes, that while was longer in one case, shorter in another, but he knew six or seven hours prolly hadn’t reaped the Birth of a healthy infant.

“What the–what’re _you_ doing here, Richie?”

Glancing up from where he’d been feeding a giggling Zep in between feeding himself, he couldn’t help rolling his eyes and smirking. “Gee, I dunno–maybe ’cuz I _live_ here?”

“This is Bobby’s house, though,” Bret argued.

“Yeah, and? Guy’s a good man since he offered up one of his empty bedrooms back when I got that eviction notice.” The younger brunette shrugged as he turned his attention back to the baby next to him.

“Wait, really?” Even Rikki looked surprised to hear that.

“Caught me when ya took your lunch break since I was too stressed to stop playing that Day,” Richie told them. “He said that even if Lyric _hadn’t_ threatened to throw him in the Dog house–although I’ll admit as much as he did that it’s a damned nice one–he couldn’t have bitten his tongue on that offer.”

“Hey, it’s his house,” the drummer chuckled. “Long as the wife agreed to it, who’re we to say who he can and can’t have living with him?”

“Hence why we didn’t say anything,” he said with a chuckle of his own. “Didn’t figure anyone needed to know, and even if we _did,_ the studio isn’t exactly the placeta be talking about that kinda thing.”

_“Touché.”_ Even Bret nodded as he butted a hip against the island. “So, where’s said lovable bastard now?”

The younger brunette didn’t get a chanceta answer before the phone rang, which made him hold up a finger as he abandoned his current task for a moment. Considering how long it’d been since his Midnight wake-up call, he’d a feeling he knew who it was and why they were calling. He hadn’t heard anything from the man he was just asked about, so he figured it was him finally calling with some kinda update for him.

Answering the phone across from the table in the breakfast nook didn’t disappoint him in the assumption that it was Bobby. The poor guy sounded half-frazzled, but like he was completely in Awe as he greeted him, and he’d a feeling he knew why that was. But before he’d let him explain anything, he told him to hang on for a second so he could put the phone on speaker. Not only would that serve the purpose of letting him share his news with all three of his band mates at once, but he could Return to feeding Zep–who’d gotten about half his breakfast so far–since that’d free up his hands.

_“I’m guessing the blonde duo let themselves in again?”_ he chuckled once he could be heard by all of them.

“Yeah, that they did,” Richie answered. “Cat’s outta the bag about me living here now, though.”

_“Not like that part really matters since it’s my house and Lyric pretty much threatened to throw me in the Dog house, at best,”_ the older brunette laughed.

He glanced up at Rikki and Bret with a smirk on his face as if Silently saying, _See? I toldja that’s what he said_.

“So, what the heck’s going on?” said vocalist asked. “’Cuz if you’re not here and _he’s_ watching Zep…”

_“Lyric went into labor around one this Morn,”_ Bobby answered. _“Didn’t wanna call y’all at that Time of Night since Richie and I both figured you’d just as soon hang up on us as listen.”_

“I was trying to get Zep cleaned up and fed–not to mention get an update to pass on–before I called them,” the younger brunette told him.

_“Well, the update’s that Aria Zephyrine Kuykendall was born at seven-twenty-four,”_ he announced. _“Seven pounds, nine ounces of rhythmic crying that already sounds like she’s singing.”_

“Just like her parents!” Rikki laughed. “I’m guessing that’s why ya picked that name?”

_“Partially,”_ Bobby answered. _“Aria’s an Italian name that means_ song or Melody– _Zephyrine’s the feminine version of Zephyr, which’s a Greek name that means_ West Wind.”

“Well, she’s a Gemini, right?” Richie asked.

_“Aries or Taurus, actually, but her mama was insistent,”_ he chuckled. _“I don’t exactly fancy having my nuts on the side of my head, after all.”_

All three of his band mates cracked up at that.

“Man, I’m pretty sure you’d look funny, if she did that,” the vocalist told him once they’d Calmed down.

“Seriously,” the drummer agreed. “Can ya imagine? Both nuts hanging down over one ear–or a nut hanging over each ’cuz she split them up before somehow attaching them to the sides of his head…”

_“Agh, I didn’t need_ that _mental image, guys,”_ he laughed.

“I don’t think _any_ of us did,” Richie agreed.

Once they’d all Calmed down enough to be serious, he couldn’t help asking when he was planning on coming home, assuming he did before Lyric was discharged. The older brunette assured him that he was most definitely coming home–mostly ’cuz it was a good idea to introduce Zep to his baby sister before they actually brought her home–but it’d be a while. He wanted to wait till his wife was asleep since he wanted to grab a shower, then take his Time with getting his son loaded up. Between that and actually getting back to the hospital, she oughta be able to catch a decent nap before she was woken up for anything else.

The younger brunette agreed with that assessment, saying that he’d imagine she was beyond exhausted by now. He didn’t know how much sleep they’d gotten before her water broke, but judging by how uncomfortable she’d been lately, he didn’t think it’d been much. Doubtless she hadn’t gotten back to sleep while she was in labor, even if she’d gotten something for the pain, and he knew labor was exhausting to Begin with.

Bobby confirmed that–even after she’d gotten an epidural a couple hours after their arrival–his wife hadn’t gotten back to sleep before delivery. The pressure of each contraction’d wake her right back up, if she started dozing off, so she’d eventually given up trying. Luckily, her labor hadn’t been as long as a lotta first-Time moms were reputed to have, so while she was tired, he wouldn’t necessarily say she was completely exhausted. Not like they’d both be once they brought Aria home and they were more or less on their own with two babies since they didn’t expect the younger brunette to help out with either. After all, they weren’t his kids, so they technically weren’t his Responsibility–they weren’t gonna make him help with them, if he didn’t wanna.

Richie was quick to gently reprimand him by saying that if he was living here, he considered the kids just as much his Responsibility as theirs. If he happened to be up for some reason and they didn’t hear their crying, it didn’t make senseta leave them with an unfulfilled need when he could handle it. After all, he wouldn’t have agreed to keep an eye and ear out for his son in their absence, if he thought any other way. Besides, watching the kids when they couldn’t–or needed a date Night or something to clear their heads–was the least he could do since they never had to let him move in with them.

The next afternoon, Richie and Zep’d just gotten up from their nap when they heard voices down in the foyer, which could mean only one thing. He couldn’t help a sleepy smile as he finished changing the boy’s diaper, then picked him up so he could head downstairs. Said boy’d already been introduced to his new sister the afternoon previous, and he’d already fallen practically head over heels for her, which was a good thing.

Down in the family room, Bobby got his shared wife settled on the couch, their daughter’s carrier in the floor next to it. He wasn’t surprised she winced as she got settled, considering that she’d made no bones about her crotch, ass, and thighs being sore. That wasta be expected, though, since she’d pushed seven and a-half pounds of baby out a hole he considered far too tiny for such a thing. But that analogy’d made her laugh when he’d said it at the hospital, if only ’cuz she’d been quick to remind him that–whether he thought it too tiny or not–that hole’d been designed to stretch for that very reason.

“Well, I see they sprung ya already,” the younger brunette chuckled.

“Said I was doing well enough since I actually managed to get to the bathroom on my own before Rob woke this Morn and could help me,” Lyric said, a bit of Pride coloring her voice.

“I’m sure you’re still sore, though,” he retorted, setting Zep on the couch next to her.

_“OhmiGoddess_ –feels like I went at it too much and did _waaaay_ too many squats right afterward!” the young woman laughed. “Even cutting myself shaving _down there_ is preferable to this!”

“It won’t last forever, sweetheart,” her husband chuckled.

“I know it won’t,” she agreed. “But you’d best hope ya can figure out how to use a rubber correctly, or your nuts might _still_ wind up stapled to the side of your head.”

Richie couldn’t help laughing as the older brunette knelt down to unbuckle his new daughter, even though he knew she was dead serious. He couldn’t help taking a crack at that, though, by reminding himself aloud to find a condom made outta something bulletproof for himself before her postpartum period was up. The way he saw it, if not even a bullet could pierce through to hurt her, there was no way sperm were gonna get through to impregnate her.

Lyric couldn’t help a laugh of her own at the silliness of her menfolk, even as one of said menfolk gently settled the newborn in her arms. Aria squirmed and cooed as she made herself comfy against her mama’s breasts, her Chocolate eyes wide as she looked around. Her mama said that her vision was most likely nothing but a blur of Colors at the moment, ’cuz babies’ vision tended to stay like that till they were around four months old. Till then, they used their other senses–mostly smell and hearing–to identify things and even people around them, which was part of why they were easily startled at this age. Such was proven when Zep moved into her line of vision so he could sloppily kiss her cheek, which made her jump before settling again.

Bobby couldn’t help his smile as he watched her cradle the baby girl that looked almost like him as much as her big brother did. She’d a few more of her mama’s features than her brother had of _his_ mama’s, but she still looked more like him than she didn’t. Course, at this age, it was usually hard to tell which parent a baby was gonna favor more, so he wasn’t banking on that staying that way forever.

The young woman eventually turned to let the young man sitting beside her hold Aria, chuckling as he seemed surprised. He didn’t try to refuse, nor did he exactly seem uncomfortable as she settled the baby in his arms so he could cradle her. No, if anything, he seemed more like he was taking the utmost caution against losing his grip on and therefore dropping her. It was still a Serene sight for the new parents, ’cuz they were glad to know already that they could entrust him with her safety. Only Time’d tell how good of a parent he’d make, but for now, at least he could get some serious practice in before he’d a kid of his own to worry about.


	9. Nine

_March, 1993_

Another ten months passed after Aria’s Birth, and her daddy’s band was finally about to hit the stage for the first Time in just over a Year and a-half. Not only was it the first Time in so long after killing a tour–and killing one prematurely at that–it was the first live performance with their new guitarist. They were gonna be playing their new single, _Stand_ –which’d been released almost three months ago as a sorta teaser for the fans that were still interested in their band, what with the growing grunge movement.

Waiting backstage, all four guys were nervous about how their appearance on the _Arsenio Hall Show_ was gonna go, but none more so than Richie. Sure, he’d released solo albums in the Past and even performed live–but not with an already-established band that was internationally famous like this one. There was a big difference in what he’d done before as a recording artist and what he was about to do now.

Bobby spent a lil extra Time with his kids, whom he’d wanted to bring to watch from backstage tonight, while the blondes were warming up a bit. Having noticed the younger brunette’s Anxiety, he shot a look at his wife, who Returned the look with a devious grin. She leaned down to whisper something in his ear, then took off for the dressing room he shared with the younger man in question. After giving her a few moments so it’d appear she took off for a potty break, he managed to snag said young man’s attention.

“Why don’tcha go splash some Water on your face and just take a minute to collect yourself?” he suggested, gesturing toward their dressing room. “I think the kids and I can keep Bret and Rikki from going ape-shit for at least a couple minutes, if we wind up late.”

“Ya sure that’s a good idea?” Richie asked nervously. “I mean, I don’t wanna cause strife where there hasn’t been any by making us late.”

“Trust me, we’re all feeling the Anxiety, too,” the older brunette chuckled. “I mean, it’s our first show in eighteen months, and with a new guitarist at that–we’re all nervous about how the fans’re gonna react, too.”

“The three of ya are damn sure better at hiding it than I am,” he said, pushing himself up from his seat. “Tell those two I’ll be back as quick as I can.”

Bobby simply nodded before Returning his attention to playing with his kids, not about to give away what was in store for him.

The younger brunette took a deep breath as he headed off to their dressing room, hoping to Calm his nerves a bit before he headed onstage. Maybe he was right, and splashing some cool Water on his face’d help, if only by cooling him off a bit since it already felt hot in here and the stage Lights’d just make it worse. He certainly hoped so, ’cuz he didn’t wanna fuck up and hit the wrong chord, or wind up puking over the side of the stage from the heat and Anxiety both getting to him.

Richie gasped as he felt something shove him against the dressing room door almost as soon as he got it closed, his hands automatically reaching to shove back. Feeling a hand suddenly grab him by the balls quickly made the person’s identity register, but he was still surprised when he realized it was Lyric. He hadn’t even seen her disappear a few minutes ago, which was the whole Intent since she didn’t _want_ anyone to realize it.

“What the–” he started, only to gasp again when she started nibbling at his throat. “Hon, we don’t–”

“Sure we do,” the young woman chuckled, her voice sounding sultry. “For what _I’ve_ in mind, that is.”

“We’re supposed to be onstage in a few minutes,” Richie protested, groaning as the hand gripping his balls tightened in a not-so-good way.

“Rob’ll keep those idiots busy just long enough,” she told him, grinning. “’Cuz it’s not like we’re going as far as ya seem to think we are.”

The younger brunette’s brow furrowed as he wondered just what on Earth she meant, but he was quickly distracted by the Fiery trail she started licking and kissing down his chest.

_“Mmm,”_ Lyric hummed, momentarily teasing his nipples before continuing down lower.

“Jesus Christ!” he gasped, already arching against her when he felt her tongue stab into his navel. It’d felt almost like that small indention and the head of his cock were connected by a single, hypersensitive nerve.

“Just relax, and enjoy while I’m in the mood,” the young woman told him, her soft words muffling the Sound of her pulling his zipper down.

Richie started to ask what the hell she was talking about again, but was quickly distracted again by feeling something warm and wet wrapping around his tip. “Ah, fuck me, nekkid and runnin’,” he groaned.

She simply laughed as she sucked more of him into her mouth, those gentle vibrations making him twitch as he started to harden.

The younger brunette couldn’t help a whimper that was almost too soft to hear, her tongue teasing him to full mast, as it were. Feeling the velvety softness of her mouth wrapped around him, that muscle she’d sworn she could do things with that’d drive him insane dancing around his shaft, certainly took his breath away. In fact, he was forced to pull one of his bandanas outta his back pocket and shove it in his mouth to gag himself, ’cuz he was already on the verge of screaming.

Lyric couldn’t help laughing as she started to bob her head experimentally, one hand gently cupping his balls while the other was either chased by her mouth or _doing_ the chasing. She didn’t dish out blow-jobs very often–not even for Rob–but when she did, she was certainly talented at it, that was for sure. In fact, she’d been known to half-ass the act and have guys thinking she’d been giving it her all the whole Time.

Richie certainly couldn’t tell that she was somewhere between half-assing it and giving it her all, which was somewhat her Intent. She’d wanted to distract him from everything–including his rampant Anxiety–not to mention help him relax before he hit the stage. If he focused on the things her mouth and hands, particularly her mouth, were doing to him and actually got off from it–well, hopefully it’d help him. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have bothered with performing the one sexual act she hated above all else since–in her opinion–cum was absolutely nasty.

“Fuck,” he hissed, the lone word muffled by the bandana he was still biting as his hands reached for her hair of their own accord.

The young woman made a warning Sound that made him jump for a couple different reasons as she slowly pulled him outta her mouth. “Don’t, or you’re gonna get an Ending you’re not gonna want.”

Richie cocked a brow down at her, the Fog currently Clouding his brain not helping with his confusion.

“I can’t deep-throat, hon,” she chuckled. “So, unless ya _want_ me to puke on your junk…”

“No, thanks,” the younger brunette laughed once he’d pulled the bandana outta his mouth. “Having a woman puke on me during a blow-job’s not exactly on my bucket list.”

“Then keep those handsta yourself,” Lyric told him. “’Cuz you’ll get whatcha want before it’s all over, even if my jaw hurts like hell later.”

_“Ahhhh,_ fuck me,” he groaned, stuffing his bandana back into his mouth as she started on him again.

This Time, Richie flattened his hands against the door behind him, both as a sorta tether to Reality and as a reminder _not_ to try grabbing her hair again. He couldn’t help his hips still trying to buck of their own accord as she bobbed her head, which only pushed him slightly further into her mouth. But that was quickly taken care of when the young woman let go of his sac and the bottom half of his shaft, her hands pushing against his hip joints right in the crease of his legs. She shoved just hard enough to hold him still, mostly by laying her body weight on her hands as she leaned forward, but it certainly worked.

Before long, he could feel the warmth that’d settled in his crotch growing hotter, and a familiar tingling settled in both his balls and the pit of his stomach. Even if he hadn’t been panting already, he’d have known what was coming, just from that sensation alone, which was what made him squirm. He tried to pull away from her, not knowing how she felt about swallowing a guy’s load, but she’d him pinned fast against the door.

Lyric was adept at reading a guy’s body language, though, so she knew how much Time she had to get him right to the brink before she’d to duck outta the way. The second she felt him thicken a bit more in her mouth, she was quick to quite literally pop off him, the sudden release of suction setting him off. Ducking to her left, she chuckled as she was able to use her right hand to stroke him, gently helping him ride it out as he fired his load over her shoulder.

“Good…God,” the younger brunette panted, practically mewling as his orgasm finally Ended.

“There we go,” she chuckled, her hands moving to gently massage his hips in a way designed to bring him down, not rile him up again.

“Fuck, I’ve never gotten head that good before,” Richie mewled, his head tilted back against the door.

“Not that I’m ever crossing this boundary again, but Rob said the same thing the first Time I gave _him_ a blow-job,” the young woman laughed as she finally rose.

“I don’t want _or_ need to know more,” Richie told her with a laugh of his own. “I gotta say, though–definitely didn’t expect _that.”_

“That was the whole point,” she retorted with a grin. “If it helps ya relax enough to hit the stage without fuckin’ up–well, I’ll give in, even though I _hate_ giving head.”

“Damn, seriously?” the younger brunette asked, looking surprised as she led him over to the sink to clean up a bit.

“Cum’s basically Saltwater with the viscosity of hand soap to me,” Lyric answered. “Hence why I don’t swallow.”

“I wasn’t sure if ya did or not,” Richie admitted, sounding a bit sheepish. “That was why I started trying to squirm away since I didn’t dare take that bandana outta my mouth at that point.”

“I’ve learned to read a guy’s body language well enough that I can tell when one’s about to cum,” the young woman said. “You’ve prolly never realized it, but a guy thickens a hair more a second or two before his balls draw up when he’s about to cum.”

“No, actually I _didn’t_ ever realize that,” he mused, soaking a paper towel. “I’m guessing that’s how ya knew to move?”

“Bingo.” Lyric chuckled as he stretched up just enough to kiss his cheek since she didn’t know how he felt about getting a _real_ kiss immediately after her mouth’d been on his cock.

The younger brunette hummed and answered that question by craning his neck just enough to kiss her, his hand working on cleaning himself up. He’d never really cared about being kissed after getting head, usually ’cuz the ones who gave it to him didn’t bother trying afterward. Then again, that wasta be expected with a one-Night stand who didn’t want any strings after whatever they did together. But it wasn’t exactly like he could taste himself beyond a slight musky flavor, which wasn’t really that different from eating her out.

Hearing the door open behind them made Richie gasp and jerk away from her, his heart hammering as he glanced back over his shoulder. Rikki stood in the doorway, his jaw dropped so low, he prolly coulda stepped on his bottom lip as he took in the scene before him. It was the young woman who took charge, the look on her face her customary _don’t-fuck-with-me_ look she gave when she was pissed.

“We’ll talk about it _after_ the show, Rik,” Lyric told him. “And not a moment sooner, so don’t ask.”

“Hell, there won’t _be_ a show once I tell Bobby!” the drummer retorted, snapping outta his shock.

“Or so ya think,” she shot back with a smirk.

“Lyric, are ya– You’re his _fuckin’ wife,_ andja were just kissing his band mate!” Rikki said, sounding flabbergasted.

“Yeah, and?” The young woman was clearly amused by the exchange, and Richie couldn’t say he wasn’t a lil amused, too.

“Bobby, get over here!” he yelled out the door.

Seconds later, they heard the older brunette’s boots approaching the doorway, and she wasn’t surprised he’d apparently left the kids with Bret.

“I’m assuming we’re good to hit the stage now?” Bobby asked, a bit of a knowing smirk on his own face as he took in his brunette counterpart’s expression.

“Once we convince Rikki to quit trying to make trouble where there’s not any, yeah,” Lyric answered.

Cocking a brow at the blonde, he crossed his arms.

“Dude, she was fuckin’ kissing him like _he’s_ her husband!” the drummer said.

_“Ahhhh,_ I see what happened here,” the older brunette chuckled. “Just shut up and forgetcha saw that till we get back to the house after the show.”

“What the– Bobby, are ya _fuckin’ crazy?”_ Rikki’s jaw dropped again.

“More than you’ve ever thought,” he answered with a grin. “But we don’t have Time to talk about this right now, or we’d sitcha down to explain it.”

The drummer still looked flabbergasted as Richie finally turned to face them, his fly closed as if he hadn’t been getting head just minutes ago. He couldn’t help the amused chuckle that bubbled up from the back of his throat, even though being pulled down slightly made him gasp. Still, his eyes fluttered shut as he felt his shared girl’s lips on his again, a soft sigh ghosting across the soft flesh as he Returned the kiss.

Bobby didn’t try to fight when she pulled _him_ down almost as soon as she’d let go of the younger brunette, his own eyes fluttering shut as she stole a kiss from him, too. Theirs was a hair longer than the one she’d given her younger boyfriend, but that wasn’t exactly outside the norm for them. After all, he was her Primary partner while his brunette counterpart was her secondary partner–if anyone was gonna get a bit more of her Time and attention, it was gonna be him. Well, that was if her Time and attention wasn’t turned toward the kids, ’cuz they always trumped either of her menfolk.

Grabbing a shocked Rikki by his shoulder, he laughed as he dragged him to the backstage area again, the other pair following behind. They were gonna have a _lotta_ explaining to do once they got home, considering he hadn’t been able to stop him when Bret told him to go get their guitarist. But then again, they’d all known this Day was gonna come eventually–they’d just hoped that it woulda happened at home when they’d more than enough Time for the discussion to ensue.


	10. Ten

Once they’d gotten through their lone song–to which, the crowd’s reactions seemed pretty positive–the guys all headed backstage again. That pre-show blow-job’d done Wonders for getting Richie to settle down and get into his groove as if he were back at the studio when they were tracking it since this was another song he’d written before he met the others. Seeing that certainly brought at least a slight smile to the rest of their faces, but now it was Time to get down to even more serious business.

Judging by the look he was shooting them, Rikki was still ready to cause a big stink over what he’d walked in on just before they took the stage. The older brunette shot him a warning look that was caught by his wife and younger counterpart, but completely missed by the kids and Bret. Backstage after even a one-song concert wasn’t the Time or placeta be discussing their private Lives, and he’d never forgive him, if he started now.

Upon finally arriving back in his house a short while later, Bobby headed straight upstairs with his sleepy baby girl. Aria’d enjoyed the show as much as her big brother had, but at ten months old now, it was actually just a lil _past_ her normal bedtime. Said big brother was starting to get a lil too tired, as well, not that either of them needed to be privy to the conversation about to take place. Luckily, Zep wasn’t quite as picky about who put him to bed anymore, so he was more than glad to let the man he’d taken to calling _Daddy Richie_ do that while his parents were busy.

“All right, what in the _fuckin’ hell’d_ I see earlier that I can’t _unsee_ now?” the drummer finally exploded once all four adults were gathered in the kitchen. “’Cuz to _me,_ it looked like Lyric was cheating with your fuckin’ band mate and not even _trying_ to hide it.”

“That’s ’cuz I _wasn’t_ cheating on him, with his band mate or otherwise,” Lyric snickered. “And even if I _was,_ it wouldn’t stay hidden for long before the Guilt ate away at me too much and I ’fessed up.”

“The woman’s a helluva liar when she wantsta be–but _not_ with something like that,” her husband chuckled, nuzzling her hair from where he was settled on a bar stool so she could stand between his legs.

“From what they’ve told me, she didn’t even try to hide being attracted to me when he called her out on it on Day one,” Richie agreed, gently taking one of her hands so he could lace their fingers together. “Hell, didn’tcha tell him something like it wasn’t _all_ being pregnant and horny that madeja wanna jump me?”

“I _did,_ yeah,” she answered with a laugh, making a certain pair of aqua eyes widen. “’Cuz at the Time, I was four months pregnant with Aria–pregnancy makes a woman horny quicker and easier than normal, just like it does with mood swings and exhaustion.”

“Looks like the Cat’s poor Rikki’s tongue,” Bobby snickered.

“I–wha–” he stuttered, looking even more flabbergasted than he’d looked backstage earlier.

“Polyamory, ya nut,” the young woman laughed. “Think of it like a Mormon taking multiple wives.”

“How the fuck does _that_ tie in?” Rikki asked, his expression shifting to confusion.

She couldn’t help another laugh as she explained that when a Mormon took multiple wives, there was only _one legal_ marriage. All the subsequent weddings–whether it was just one or fifteen–were Spiritual marriages that were more akin to the Pagan handfasting than they weren’t, from what she could tell. It was that latter, Millennia-old Ceremony that allowed her to be married to the older brunette, but technically _not_ be having an extra-marital affair, as per State Laws.

He couldn’t help turning a shocked gaze on the brunette half of his band, Richie squirming slightly since–while he was certainly a charismatic guy–he was definitely a bit uncomfortable. Then again, it wasn’t every Day that he got walked in on while kissing his girlfriend right after a blow-job and nearly tore his band to shreds without even trying to, either.

“Man, I encouraged them to get together,” Bobby chuckled. “She was driving me crazy by fighting her attraction to him since I hadn’t thought about sharing her at the Time and didn’t wanna push any buttons.”

“Fuck, I damn near calledja by _his_ name a couple Times while we were going at it before ya made that encouragement!” his wife said. “Talk about a relationship-Ender, man–calling my husband by his band mate’s name, ’cuz it was the band mate in question I was seeing in my head while I was getting fucked.”

“Whoa, _Red!”_ the younger brunette cackled.

“Sorry, but I kinda _had_ to cross that line to get the point across,” Lyric laughed.

Even her husband’s nose was scrunched at the Thought of being called by another man’s name during such an act, but he’d figured out the point she was trying to make. “Please, refrain from such line-crossing anymore, sweetheart–I _really_ don’t wanna know shit like that.”

“Oh, shut up before I drag ya off to the master suite and bust out that damn Chicken again,” the young woman warned him, a grin on her face.

“I’m not even asking how ya knew I once said that,” Bobby said.

“’Cuz I speak Chicken, and the Chicken told me whatcha said,” she told him, the glint in her eyes belying the seriousness of her voice.

The younger brunette bit his wrist so he could bite back his laughter, knowing damn good and well he’d ratted his band mate out on that one.

Turning her attention back to Rikki, Lyric explained their lil oddball dynamic when it came to their Romantic and sex Lives. Both men shared her like siblings’d share a toy–which meant that _yes,_ they sorta _were_ swapping spit and having sex with each other in a roundabout way–but there were certain things that usually got kept private. Other than when one of them Intentionally crossed that _what happens in the bedrooms_ stays _in the bedrooms_ line to get a point across like she’d done, they didn’t discuss what she did with either of them as a group. Well, another exception was earlier that Night, even though she hadn’t exactly gone into explicit detail since she knew her husband wouldn’t want her to.

“She leaned down and whispered in my ear that I oughta suggest Richie head to the dressing room to take a minute to get himself settled down before we went on,” Bobby told him. “I could tell by the devious look on her face she was up to _something,_ and that was all I wanted _or_ needed to know.”

“All I’ma say’s that it was _definitely_ a surprise for me,” his brunette counterpart chuckled. “And that I’m _still_ a lil dazed from it.”

“Not another word, kid,” he laughed. “’Cuz if she did what I _think_ she did, I know the feeling.”

“Wasn’t _Sex magick,_ if that’s what you’re thinking,” Richie said with a grin. “But damned if it didn’t _feel_ like it.”

_“Sex magick?”_ the drummer asked, looking confused.

“That’s the _one_ topic I let him cross the line of not asking about my sex Life with literally the Morn after they got together last Year,” the older brunette answered. “Basically, that type of magick feeds off the Energy of the act in its name.”

“It’s some seriously potent and powerful shit, definitely _not_ for the inexperienced Witch,” Lyric said, the look in her eyes shifting to match the seriousness in her voice this Time. “Problem is, once I get into a certain headspace, I can’t stop it from happening–it just _does,_ and I can really daze whoever I’m with at the Time, at the very least.”

“Not to mention _yourself,”_ her younger lover dead-panned. “Ya passed out after that, and if it hadn’t been for ya still breathing, I’d have dragged Rob outta bed to find out what the hell was wrong with ya.”

“And therein lies why I _let him_ get away with crossing that boundary the one Time,” Bobby said when their drummer turned another confused look on him. “He was so worried, I knew we wouldn’t have gotten anything done at the studio that Day–and other than _her,_ I’m the only one who coulda explained it immediately after it happened to him.”

The young woman explained that _Sex magick_ could be powerful enough to cause an orgasm so intense, it’d make a being blackout once said orgasm Ended. If one’d never experienced it before, it could really scare and worry a person when their partner blacked out and _didn’t_ regain consciousness before Morn, which was often the case with her. She didn’t necessarily _like_ Richie asking the older brunette about it, but she was as forgiving as said older brunette since she understood the reason he’d done it.

Ever since then, she’d hit both her menfolk with it a few other Times, but not quite _that_ intensely since she didn’t allow herself to get quite as caught up in the shenanigans that preceded it. She’d never hit both of them with it at the same Time, of course–they all agreed that they weren’t the slightest bit interested in having a threesome, after all.

Now Rikki started to get that Lyric was essentially maintaining two separate relationships when it came to Romance and sex. She was with both guys, and they both obviously knew she was Romantically involved with the other, rather than her trying to hide it. And it seemed that–aside from living in the same house together–they talked about nearly everything together like any other group of friends would. It seemed that what she did behind closed doors with each man was the only thing that was off-limits unless she was talking _to_ the man in question about it–which again, occurred behind closed doors.

“Yeah, that’s the basic gist of it,” the young woman agreed.

“Hell, I’m the one that said I didn’t wanna know what they did together right off the bat,” Bobby chuckled. “And said that if I ever caught them fuckin’ in my bed, we were gonna have problems.”

“Not that I ever disagreed with that,” his younger counterpart laughed. “’Cuz we’d have just as many problems as if the two of ya ever fucked in _my_ bed.”

“Only other real rule that got laid down was Richie not wanting me making comparisons between them, which’s fair enough,” Lyric said. “He doesn’t even wanna know if Rob likes having his ears nibbled or not, and vice versa.”

“If I wanted to know, I’d find out on my own,” he dead-panned as he shot her a bemused look.

“Good Luck having your big head remain attached to your shoulders, if ya get that closeta me _like that,”_ the older brunette laughed. “’Cuz I’ma knock your head off, if ya do.”

“Be expecting the same in Return, if ya ever start trying to nibble on me,” Richie chuckled.

“Sounds like a helluva dynamic,” Rikki finally mused, a thoughtful look on his face.

“It can be that and so much more, though,” the young woman told him. “They can both work together to fill proverbial holes when it comesta the shit I like in a guy, rather than trying to live up to some nonexistent idea of perfection.”

“Not only that, but let’s say Rob’s a migraine from a long Day in the studio, but she’s wanting some action,” the younger brunette said. “He doesn’t have to either force himself to fulfill her needs, or simply tell her no ’cuz his head’s killing him.”

“Same goes for Richie, too,” he agreed. “If he’s _not_ in the mood, but _she_ is–well, she doesn’t necessarily have to be left hanging, if she’s another she can turn to for that.”

“Fair enough,” the drummer acquiesced. “I can kinda see why ya didn’t tell anyone else about this shit, though.”

“Well, it wasn’t anyone else’s business,” Lyric said. “Only those involved _truly_ needed to know–and since you, Bret, and any various parts of the crew weren’t involved, ya didn’t need to know.”

“Well, I damn well woulda liked a heads-up that Bobby _knew_ ya were screwing around with his band mate,” he laughed. “Not ’cuz I wanted fine details, but so that something like tonight wouldn’t happen!”

All three of them laughed and admitted that they’d thought about it, but decided against doing such a thing to retain their privacy. The fewer people that knew, the less chances it’d get leaked to the media, which’d no doubt result in cameras in all their faces more than they already were. Considering that all three of them really just wanted to live their Lives quietly and comfortably outside the band as if said band didn’t exist, they considered that the better way to go for all of them.

Rikki agreed to keeping his mouth shut, that it wasn’t his businessta be spreading around since he technically wasn’t involved. He even agreed that the shorter blonde prolly shouldn’t be told, as outta Control as he was starting to get with his own substance problems. If anyone were more likely to open their mouth and spill the Beansta the media anytime soon, it was gonna be him–and when he was drunk and/or high, at that. Should they ever get him sobered up to where he’d understand even the slightest explanation and be able to truly be sworn to Secrecy, they might be able to tell him eventually. But since none of them saw that Day coming in the near–or really, even distant–Future, there was no need to announce it.

Now that tonight’s drama and confusion’d been cleared up, the drummer decided it was Time to head home so he could clean up and simply relax after their show. Bobby and Richie both insisted that he call them to let them know he was home, even though he lived only three or so miles down the road. They all knew that just about anything could happen in even ten feet, let alone three miles, and they didn’t wanna find out he’d gotten into a wreck through the media. He was more than agreeable to that, saying they’d have to hang out soon since the band was supposed to be heading out on tour in about a month.

Even Lyric couldn’t help a relieved sigh as they locked up for the Night, then headed to the family room to just relax. She was glad that the taller blonde was taking their explanation so well, considering that it coulda gone far worse, given how he’d reacted backstage. Now the Hope was just to keep Bret from finding out–and if he _did,_ that he reacted similarly, which wasn’t nearly as likely.


	11. Eleven

A lil over three months later, Poison’d been on the road again for roughly _two_ of those months in support of their new album. They’d just rolled into their stop just a couple miles Southeast of Irvine, California for their fourth straight show at the Irvine Meadows Amphitheatre. None of the guys were up just yet, but that was relatively normal for right around eleven-thirty in the Morn when they’d a show the Night previous.

That was a good thing, though, ’cuz it played into a surprise for a certain brunette pair quite well, as far as the one dishing out said surprise was concerned. Bobby and Richie’d both been missing their shared girl and the kids, but most of their tour stops hadn’t quite been close enough to home for them to manage a short visit. If that’d been the case, no doubt both of them woulda gone home to not only sleep in their own beds for at least a single Night, but to get some alone Time with their shared woman. Neither’d deny that it wasn’t just hearing her voice through something other than a phone they were missing, if they were asked.

Lyric and Casey–who’d come with her for something _other_ than seeing tonight’s show–managed to keep Zep, Maci, and Aria quiet. The band’s manager met them outside the busta help them slip on without waking the guys just yet, considering what the brunette woman wanted to do. Her plan wasta boost the kids up into the bunks of her menfolk, her son already clearly instructed to leave off the _Daddy_ from what he usually called the younger brunette.

In the bunk room, the kids were somehow able to bite back their ecstatic giggles as Howie pulled open first the bassist’s curtain, then the guitarist’s. Just like when she’d first met him, her husband was a bit of an oddball, knocked out cold with his feet up at what she considered the head of his bunk. But he still looked every bit as angelic now as he’d looked them, his eyes fluttering beneath their lids as he Dreamed. His mouth being slightly open and soaking his pillow in drool made the sight all the more endearing to her, even though she’d to fight not to laugh at the blindfold he wore. Right in the dead Center of it, he’d written _Wake if Horny_ in Sharpie since it said _Wake for Room Service_ over each eye, and it never failed to amuse her.

The band’s manager plunked Aria’s lil behind down next to her daddy, then took Zep from his mama as he turned to his other side. Gently plunking him down next to whom they affectionately referred to as his _half-daddy,_ he was quick to yank both their curtains closed again. Only moments after those curtains were closed did they hear twin snorts and grunts from the men within, which were followed by a pair of giggles.

“What the–” Bobby grumbled, reaching up to pull his blindfold off after feeling something against his lip that quickly started playing with his exposed tongue.

“I concur,” the younger brunette grumbled, something repeatedly poking him in the nose and cheek.

“Da-da!” Aria finally giggled, even as said daddy managed to spit her hand out and reached up to grab it as he turned his bunk Light on.

“Chu lil ’tinker princess!” he chuckled as he realized who it was. “Since when chu learn how to teleport?”

“Richie!” her brother giggled across the aisle, said half-daddy turning his own bunk Light on.

“Apparently, we gots another teleporter, man!” Richie laughed softly.

_“Le gasp!”_ The older brunette feigned surprised, even as he figured out what was _really_ going on. “I wonder where the third one’s at?”

“What third one?” Bret grumbled sleepily from his bunk. “And ya two shut up–tryna sleep down here.”

“Oh, hush, man–let us enjoy having Lyric and the kids here,” Bobby said, his suspicion confirmed when he dragged open his curtain.

Said wife was leaning against what was now the foot of his bunk, arms crossed and a grin splitting her face.

“Well, well, well.” His brunette counterpart chuckled when he opened his own curtain to see her next to his head. “This is definitely a surprise.”

“Figured a certain someone’d like it,” she said, choosing her words carefully so they wouldn’t give away their relationship dynamic.

Nodding as she moved to give Bobby a _good-Morn_ kiss, the younger brunette didn’t try to protest since he knew he’d get one of his own at the first available opportunity. And if he didn’t manage to get one till they were hidden in the dressing room–well, she’d give him as many as she’d given her husband up to that point to even the score. She was every bit as fair and just as he’d been told she was, even if she’d to wait till a more private moment to prove how much so.

The young woman plucked her daughter outta her daddy’s bunk so he could get up for the Morn, both of them knowing he wasn’t getting back to sleep now. Luckily, he was at least wearing boxers when he went to bed the Night previous, so he didn’t have to worry about being indecently exposed in front of the kids. Seeing Casey and Maci behind her definitely made him glad that he’d worn at least the bare minimum to bed, though.

Once the older brunette’d taken his turn in the bus’ tiny bathroom, he plucked his son outta his counterpart’s bunk. Richie shot him a thankful smile as he crawled out, thankful that he, too had chosen to wear at least boxersta bed as he headed off for his turn. The only place he ever dared sleep completely nekkid were his own bed at home–simply ’cuz his girlfriend was the only one to enter his domain there–and in hotels since a being’d to have a spare key card to get in. He didn’t consider anywhere else–especially here on the bus–private enough to let down his guard quite _that_ much, what with all the groupies and crazies running around.

“So, what on Earth madeja decide to make the trek down here to Irvine?” Bobby was asking as he wandered into the front lounge, his PJ britches now on.

“’Cuz I missed a certain someone,” she practically purred, quick to shoot a sidelong glance at her younger lover to make sure he knew he was included, too.

“That so, huh?” the older brunette asked, his own voice holding a bit of a purr. “Well, good thing I’ve tomorrow off.”

“Oh, I know ya do,” Lyric chuckled. “I’ve already seen the itinerary, so I know your next show after tonight ain’t till Night after tomorrow.”

“Guess we’re gonna have to cram in all the quality Time we can manage, huh?” he asked.

“Or not,” the young woman said, her grin turning mischievous.

“Oh–and why not?” Bobby asked, cocking a brow. “’Cuz you’re not the _only_ one who’s been missing a certain someone.”

“Didja forget about that two-week break between the show up in Mountainview and heading to South America?” she laughed, which made both brunettes’ eyes widen.

“Actually, I think _all_ of us forgot about it,” Richie admitted sheepishly. “It’s been so nuts the last couple months…”

“And a couple of us’ve been going _even more_ nuts than others,” the older brunette said. He grinned as he pulled her down tighter against his lap at the same Time he pushed up against her slightly.

“Behave yourself, Robert,” Lyric warned him, even though she was still grinning.

“Or what?” he asked, wearing a cheeky grin of his own.

“Dost thou want thine Chicken brought out again?” the young woman countered.

Bobby couldn’t help a laugh as he warned her not to threaten him with a good Time, even the younger brunette knowing she was talking dirty to him. Granted, said younger brunette _didn’t_ realize that was her way of threatening to tie her husband to whatever bed was closest and torment him in ways that no other woman’d ever been able to before. Course, that was exactly how they liked it–nobody else needed to know that he _let her_ do that kinda shit to him, never mind that he enjoyed it so immensely on occasion.

That Night after the show, Richie took the kids back to his hotel with him, but he was quick to stop the couple from heading off. He slipped the spare key card to said room into his girlfriend’s bra, playing it off as giving her a way to check on her babies, if she felt that motherly need. But it was also a Silent invitation to take said kids back to their daddy, should she feel the need to keep going once she’d worn said daddy out. Something told him she was gonna spend the entire Night with her husband, then spend tomorrow and tomorrow Night with him, but he still made the offer. Lyric simply nodded, knowing what his unsaid meaning was as she and the older brunette let everyone else think otherwise and headed off.

Time continued to pass, and as the Summer slowly faded into Autumn–at least, in the Northern hemisphere–it seemed the tour was simply dragging on. Richie was starting to get fed up, mostly with the man who fronted the band he’d joined going on two Years ago. It wasn’t just for a single reason, either–there were several, and his Patience on every single one of them was starting to wear thin.

Outta fifteen-to-twenty-song setlists that seemed to Change from one Night to the next, only five–if that many–actually came from the album they were touring to support. Everything else they wound up playing came from the band’s previous three albums, one album getting a lil more representation than another each Night. It wasn’t that any of those songs–including some like _Talk Dirty to Me_ and _Good Love_ –were necessarily bad songs, _per sé_. None of them were exactly the younger brunette’s style, so he’d a hard Time playing them in a way that suggested he was even remotely enjoying himself. And he’d an even harder Time trying to feign his enthusiasm, if they were songs he didn’t have any kinda Emotional connection to–like Bobby’s favorite to perform live, _Ride the Wind_.

But the thing that _really_ got on his nerves was that when the older brunette’s siblings’d flown out West to celebrate the Sabbat of _Mabon_ with her, Lyric’d talked them into watching the kids for a couple extra weeks. They’d been able to see that she missed her menfolk, Butch and Patty having been two others they’d told about her being with both brunettes right from the get-go. Whether they agreed with such a dynamic or not any more than they agreed with her Spiritual choices even now, they hadn’t been able to find it in themselvesta deny her a chanceta go chase down her men. Naturally, her showing up down in South America–despite her hatred of flying–had been a pleasant surpriseta both of them, and they’d taken full advantage of it. However, the good Times were nearly ruined by Bret drunkenly pounding on a certain band mate’s door, and not ’cuz he’d been interrupting his bassist’s private good Time.

No, he’d been pounding on _Richie’s_ hotel room door since he’d thought Bobby was busy with his wife and he knew for a fact that his drummer was busy with his own girl. He’d wanted someone elseta hang out with, but hadn’t wanted to go wandering through whatever foreign City they were in alone. Believing in that old adage that there was Strength in numbers, rather than running off alone was a good thing, but there coulda certainly been a better Time picked for it.

Ignoring him didn’t exactly work out, and it wasn’t long before the younger brunette was forced to drag on his jeans and yank open his hotel room door. He hadn’t even bothered trying to hide his physical condition–after all, there’d been lil his fly could do to hold back his raging boner. He also didn’t bother trying to hide the Fire burning in his deep blue eyes, nor how he panted softly from having been interrupted. Bret hadn’t been able to mistake what he’d just interrupted for anything else, quickly offering his apologies and leaving him to whatever fun he’d been in the middle of.

After that, hiding his relationship with Lyric seemed to get increasingly harder as the Autumn dragged on as much as the Summer did. If they weren’t being interrupted when she managed something like her _Mabon_ trip to rock his _and_ Bobby’s Worlds, even phone calls were being interrupted. The younger brunette couldn’t seem to get five minutesta himself to have even a clean conversation with her, and Gods forbid he should try having a dirty one. That went almost about as well as the Night he’d nearly gotten caught in bed with her, which her husband had damn well known about since he’d already gotten _his_ week with her.

However, it was in November that it all came to a head, and not in a way the young woman _or_ either of her men woulda wanted it to. Said young woman’d gone back to the bus Richie was now sharing with her husband, which’d been done after the South American leg. Bobby was chilling on the blondes’ bus with the drummer, considering he’d gotten a Night with his wife to himself already. Given that she couldn’t stay out as long this Time, he’d gotten a couple Nights with her, and this was supposed to be the first of a couple his brunette counterpart got with her. Things’d gone swimmingly, as far as them managing to sneak off together went–only to go horribly wrong from there. Neither were expecting Bret to get the spare key from the brunettes’ driver, thinking that his bassist was hiding on his bus–only to walk in on them just as they were really getting into it.


	12. Twelve

“What the– Richie, what the hell do ya think you’re _doing!?”_

Gasping sharply as he heard a voice behind him just as he’d found a good rhythm with his girlfriend, said younger brunette glanced back over his shoulder. That gasp was followed by an annoyed groan when he saw Bret gaping in his bus’ bunk room doorway, which made him keep his torso lowered. He wasn’t trying to crush Lyric beneath him or anything–he was trying to be as gentlemanly as he could under the circumstances by using his own body to hide hers from view.

“Bret, get the fuck outta here!” he snapped. “The door was locked for a reason!”

“Yeah, to hideja having an affair with Bobby’s wife!” the vocalist snapped back.

“We’re not having an affair, and we’ll talk about this later,” Richie told him, already turning his attention back to the business at hand by ducking his head to kiss her throat. He could tell she was already losing interest in what they’d been doing, and he was hoping to prevent a total loss of interest.

“Like fuck’s _that_ happening!” he retorted.

“Ow–dude, what the fuck!?” The younger brunette made to take a swing behind him when he quite literally jerked him outta his bunk by his hair.

“Get the fuck outta here, and don’t ever lemme see your face again, or I’ll rearrange it!” Bret growled, shoving him toward the front lounge, not even caring about him being stark nekkid. “You’re fuckin’ fired!”

“Bret, shut your fuckin’ mouth for two seconds and listen to us!” the young woman said, already following behind. She didn’t seem to care about the fact that she, too was stark nekkid.

“I don’t wanna hear a word outta _either_ of ya!” he snapped. “’Cuz _you’re_ just as bad as _he_ is for thinking ya could cheat on your husband, and said husband wouldn’t find out eventually!”

A loud _crack!_ ensued just after he’d shoved Richie off the bus in all his nude, painfully aroused Glory, and even said younger brunette was surprised. Lyric’d just smacked him so hard that not only did the Sound echo in their dead Silent surroundings outside the next venue they were supposed to be playing, but his neck’d cracked from the blow. Glaring at him as he reached up to cup his face, she at least pulled a T-shirt and pair of boxers on before handing a pair to her younger lover. Said younger man didn’t say a word as he took the undergarment she’d handed him with a nod, quick to slip into them as the door of the bus next to them opened seconds later.

“What the hell’s going on out here?” Rikki asked as he stepped off the bus, the older brunette hot on his heels.

“Better start calling around for a new guitarist–this one’s fired,” the vocalist growled, staring the man in question down.

“Wait, what?” Even Bobby was taken aback and confused.

Turning to him, the shorter blonde looked like he was ready to explode. “And you–be ready to throw _her_ out on her ear and get a divorce.”

That was all it took for him to realize what was going on. “Man, this is just a big misunderstanding,” he started, only to get cut off.

“There’s nothing _to_ misunderstand, ’cuz I know what I saw,” Bret snapped. “Your wife in bed with your band mate. Period–End of fuckin’ story.”

“Believe whatcha want, then,” the older brunette said, a dirty look of his own settling over his face. “’Cuz if you’re replacing Richie, you’d better be ready to replace me, too.”

“And me,” the drummer agreed.

“What?” His eyes widened in shock as it seemed his entire band was turning against him.

“You’re clearly unwilling to listen, so there’s nothing to explain,” Bobby told him. “Since Rikki _was_ willing to listen, he knows what’s really going on as much as the rest of us do–and how wrong ya really are.”

“Given _this_ reaction–dude, now I’m _really_ not surprised they didn’t wanna tell anyone,” said taller blonde added as he unbuttoned his coat.

Richie was more than a lil surprised when said coat was handed to him, ’cuz he was so pissed–not to mention still so aroused–that he hadn’t even realized he was shivering. Then again, standing out in the freezing cold in nothing but a pair of boxers, he couldn’t really be surprised by such a basic biological function. If not for that reason, he wouldn’t have accepted the kind gesture, whether the coat’d been forcibly wrapped around his hunched shoulders or not.

His older counterpart’d done the same for their shared girl, the hem of his trench coat pooling at her feet, even after she’d pulled it closed so it looked more like a leather dress. The rhythm section was quick to herd them back onto what’d been the brunettes’ bus, Rikki quick to close and lock the door behind them. It wouldn’t be their bus much longer, ’cuz this was about to be the second Poison tour cut short by more than a month.

* * *

Not four hours later, Richie, Lyric, and the rhythm section of what–once again–remained of Poison sat at the nearest airport together. Both brunettes were sick of their vocalist’s behavior, especially since his drinking and drugging was getting more and more outta Control with every Day that passed. Rikki was highly disappointed in the shorter blonde for simply assuming something was true simply based on something he’d never been meant to walk in on. The fact that he’d refused to hear the Romantically-involved trio out’d only worsened matters, and now even _he_ didn’t wanna be in his presence anymore.

With a quarter of their band fired and another quarter essentially quitting–at least, for the moment–the taller blonde hadn’t seen any choice for himself but to join them. It woulda been hard enough to find a replacement for the younger brunette, alone on such short notice–finding one for both of them’d be damn near impossible. They’d no doubt have better Luck finding a _permanent_ replacement for them, not just onesta finish the tour.

Hearing their flight called, the quartet rose from where they’d been waiting, their carry-ons slung over their shoulders. All their other collective luggage’d been checked in to be loaded onto the plane they’d bought last-minute tickets for, so they didn’t have to worry about that. No, their bigger worry for the moment was how annoying being in coach was gonna be since there hadn’t been anymore seats available up in first-class. Even if they were all ready to tear their hair out by the Time they landed, they were too desperate to get home to care about what part of the plane they were on. Not even constantly being recognized by any fans who happened to be in nearby seats could bother them as badly right now.

Luckily for them, the few Poison fans who happened to be in those nearby seats saw the sour looks on all their faces and decided to leave them alone. A few shot smiles at them, which they managed to Return graciously enough, but they didn’t so much as ask how they’d been doing lately. They could tell they were all curious about why three-quarters of the band was even boarding this flight, but the World would find out soon enough since they wouldn’t be able to hide Richie’s firing forever.

A week later, neither member of Poison’s rhythm section’d bothered answering their phones, if only ’cuz of the flood of calls from reporters. Word had gotten out within two Days that the younger brunette’d been fired from the band almost as suddenly as his predecessor, and it’d spread like Wildfire. No one knew the Truth of why–if there was one thing Bret _hadn’t_ said to the media, it was that he’d supposedly caught him in bed with their bassist’s wife.

For that reason, even Rikki was hiding at said bassist’s house as they tried to relax at least a lil bit, which was certainly harder than they’d liked. They’d eventually been forced to unplug all the phones, ’cuz they just wouldn’t stop ringing, even in the middle of the Night. But they were all getting so sick of humanity that they were nearly ready to take off for parts unknown when someone let themselves in.

“Boys, we need to talk,” Howie said as he walked into the kitchen, the shorter blonde behind him.

“Not if Bret’s still unwilling to listen,” Bobby snapped. “’Cuz we’ve all agreed–even Rikki–that if he’s still unwilling to listen, there’s nothing _to_ talk about.”

“You’re seriously willing to rip the band to shreds when he was clearly having an affair with your wife?” the vocalist asked, a disdainful look on his face.

“He wasn’t having an affair, ya nitwit!” he finally exploded, taking even the wife in question by surprise with his ferocity. “Kinda hard to have an affair when I’ve known they were together all along!”

“Wait, what?” Bret looked shocked at the news he was hearing. “Since when did _this_ happen?”

“Doesn’t really matter _when,”_ he growled. “All _you_ need to know’s that I’ve known what they were doing, sans explicit details, right from the very Beginning. Hell, I fuckin’ encouraged ’em just so she’d quit driving me crazy and I wouldn’t have to live up to some nonexistent and unattainable notion of perfection!”

“’Cuz the only perfect thing on the Planet’s an asshole,” Lyric drawled, a bemused look now on her own face. “And you’re certainly an asshole, Bret.”

“I’m not–” the vocalist started, only to get cut off by her sharp look.

“I don’t wanna hear a fuckin’ word of it, ya fucker!” she snapped. “’Cuz not only didja hurt _me_ that Night, ya hurt Richie, too!”

Richie couldn’t help a wince and a soft, but pained cry as he tried to readjust himself on his bar stool since his ass was starting to go numb.

“Whoa, man.” The older brunette was quick to wrap an arm around his shoulders, gently hauling him against his side.

“Deep breaths, kid,” Rikki told him, giving him a hand to squeeze.

“Fuckin’-A, this shit hurts,” he whimpered, slamming his other fist into the counter in front of him.

Glaring up at the vocalist, the young woman made no bones about how his yanking her younger lover off her that Night’d hurt both of them. She’d wound up with a few relatively minor vaginal cuts that–luckily for her–didn’t require any stitchesta close up. In fact, they weren’t even as bad as the few tears she’d suffered while delivering her daughter, which meant they’d be Healed within another couple weeks, if it took them that long. That wasn’t to say that she _still_ wasn’t sore, ’cuz they damn well hurt enough for her to wanna run around commando instead of bothering with even boxers under her gym shorts.

But said younger lover’d been in a lot more pain by the Time their impromptu flight’d landed at LAX, and she’d to force him into going straight to the ER. The poor guy hadn’t been able to walk on his own–he’d to wrap his arms around the shoulders of the men with them and use them as living crutches. Every step’d been absolutely agonizing for him, to the point that he was seeing Stars by the Time they got to UCLA Medical Center.

It turned out that–unlike most of the cases seen in that ER–he’d a ruptured dorsal artery, which wasn’t the same as a tear in his tunica albuginea. The latter injury was more commonly known as a penile fracture–which, to be quite honest, was a lil misleading, considering that the human male didn’t actually have a bone in his penis like many males of the Animal Kingdom. But whether a ruptured vein or artery, or a full-on penile fracture, the injury needed to be treated with surgery, or there could be some serious consequences. The worst of those consequences seemed to be erectile dysfunction, which he definitely _didn’t_ want, as young as he was.

Richie couldn’t help a glare of his own at the vocalist, who looked appropriately abashed at the dressing-down he was given. Having to not only have his dick filleted to drain out anything that’d collected in a place it shouldn’t have and the artery repaired wasn’t fun. In fact, he’d much rather take a blow to the balls that left him in the fetal position with his hands tucked between his legs in a defensive manner over the pain he’d been in for a week.

“You’re fuckin’ lucky I didn’t hear a _pop_ and immediately lose my boner that Night,” he growled. “’Cuz if _that’d_ happened, I’d be kicking your ass worse than I wanna now!”

“Then maybe somebody shoulda Enlightened me to whatever the fuck’s going on between the three of ya!” Bret retorted.

“We _didn’t,_ ’cuz we weren’t too sure ya could keep your fuckin’ mouth shut,” Bobby snapped. “What goes on behind our bedroom–or bus–doors ain’t anyone’s business, if they’re on the wrong side of those doors.”

“Can’t say I disagree, dude,” the drummer told him. “They only told me, ’cuz I caught Richie and Lyric in the middle of a kiss right before that show in March when he disappeared all of a few minutes before we were supposed to go on.”

“Gotta admit, your reaction–backstage _and_ here at the house– _was_ kinda funny,” the older brunette managed to chuckle.

“Yeah, looking back on it, it kinda was,” Rikki agreed with a chuckle of his own. “I mean, who the fuck wouldn’t freak at something even that benign? And your nonchalant reaction to it all didn’t exactly help me.”

“How could I react any differently when I’d a pretty good idea of exactly what went down?” he asked. “I knew Lyric was Intent on doing _something_ to help Calm him down before his Anxiety got the better of him that Night. And not that I wanna know now any more than I did then, but I’d like to think she’s smart enough to know an actual romp _that_ closeta showtime’s a bad idea.”

Said young woman shot another bemused look at the shorter blonde, gently rubbing her young lover’s back when he made to push himself up and had to stop with a groan. Rikki moved to help him so they wouldn’t aggravate the older brunette’s neck, which’d been sore for the last couple Days, since it was pretty clear he needed the help. But getting him up the back stairs off the family room so he’d also have wallsta lean against–not to mention a couple landingsta pause on, if he needed to–certainly wasn’t easy.

Bobby couldn’t help yet another glare of his own toward said shorter blonde, his wife gently massaging the back of his neck for him. He made it quite clear that he didn’t have to explain shit about his Life to anybody, if he didn’t wanna, and that included whether he shared said wife or not. Cutting him off when he made to protest yet again, he told him that it wasn’t up for discussion–he was quitting Poison till he got his act together.

None of them got a chanceta say anything else before the drummer was calling down the main stairs that he needed some help. Considering that poor Richie was _still_ cathed so the swelling that remained wouldn’t cut off his ability to piss altogether, he no doubt needed help with that. They’d been advised _not_ to removed said catheter–to let the urologist handle that when he went into for his first post-op visit in a couple Days–so he most likely needed help with changing its collection bag. Whether that was due to the younger brunette not wanting him to touch him, or simply ’cuz he still hadn’t quite gotten the hang of it, they wouldn’t know till one of them headed upstairs.

Lyric called out that she’d be up in a minute, considering she was moving a bit slower as she waited for her own woundsta Heal. She knew her younger lover’d let Bobby help him, if he’d no other choices, but preferred her help since she tended to be gentler. Not only that, but he was just more comfortable with his lover helping with something so intimate versus another man–especially one who was technically his co-worker and a sorta brother–doing so. Using that as an excuseta effectively dismiss him, she flounced right past Bret with quite the limp in part due to her arthritis and marched up the stairs.

Turning a cold look on him and Howie, the older brunette made no bones about him getting his act together, or he could forget the band doing anything but falling apart. He didn’t like seeing the man he considered a friend and brother in so much pain, nor did he like being cut off sexually while waiting for his wife to Heal. If he continued drinking and drugging, he was gonna wind up killing himself–if not from one of the substances in his system causing his Death, then from it making his diabetes go haywire. Bobby told him he didn’t wanna see such a thing happen to him, and neither did the other three, no matter how upset they were with him. But this band–including finding yet another new guitarist–was on hold till further notice, ’cuz they couldn’t possibly live, let alone work like this.


End file.
